One is the Loneliest Number
by maintje
Summary: Harry's friends died during the War. Six months later, Harry isn't able to pick up his life memories haunting his mind. Harry didn't expect someone to knock on his door. He least expected it to be his former arch-enemy, Draco Malfoy. Will he be able to get Harry to start living again? HPxDM slash
1. Chapter 1: A Knocking Stranger

**Hi everyone! I know it's been ages, but I've been so busy lately, hardly having the time to write. I got stuck in this story, but I figured I'd start posting it anyway. Perhaps the pressure will get me writing again ^_^**

**So, a quick warning, the first chapter is rather heavy, describing the whole situation. It's a start folks, don't resent me! The next chapters will be better. **

**Please let me know what you think! Oh, and I'll probably update once a week... We'll see how it goes from there :p**

Chapter 1  
A Knocking Stranger

It had been six months since the War had ended. Six long, terrifying months. A lot had changed since. The destruction was enormous. Every single Wizard had been wronged. The strongest were able to rebuild their homes, fighting through their misery. Others were lost souls, having no one to return to and nowhere to go. Ron and Hermione both died in the war, and Harry was part of those lost souls.

The first two months, The Boy Who Lived and Survived had been hospitalized in St. Mungo's to try and get him over his loss. They tried to fix him. However, once a heart is broken, there is nothing one can do to make it okay. It can't be replaced. It can't be mended. You _never_ can fix a heart. Harry had dragged himself through those horrible two months, hardly getting any sleep. He was tormented by nightmares, seeing the vicious red eyes in his dreams. Regardless of the amount of dreamless potion he got, he eventually relived the long days of War, over and over again.

Since there had been nothing they could do to help and Harry wasn't exactly classified as 'insane', they had let him go. The hospital was too full to try and heal a broken heart. Even though Harry knew that wasn't the only thing going on with him, he'd been happy to leave the white building. It was filled with sorrow and misery. It was one of the places where you could see the damage of the war to its fullest.

The war had taken its price on the Weasleys as well. They lost three sons: Ronald, Bill and Fred. Molly and Arthur would never be the same welcoming human beings again. They were broken for life. But who could resent them for that? Everyone gave them their space to grieve. The family tried to keep their heads up, binding their forces to remain strong. The remaining children stayed home, even though Charlie had business abroad. As difficult as it was for Harry to believe, Percy Weasley was the one who held the family together, and everyone counted on him. They were still hanging in there. Somewhere.

Harry, having no one left, had been on his own. Since he had been released from St. Mungo's Harry had taken his belongings and gone to the Grimmauld Place. Why would he go to the Weasleys, to only increase their pain? If they would see him, they would be reminded that Ron had given his life to protect Harry. Their heart would be cut open again, and since Harry was still bleeding himself, he could not bring up the courage to show his face.

There was nothing Harry could do to change that. He could never replace their son, and being there would only increased his own heartache. Seeing the Weasleys meant that Harry would be reminded of all those beautiful years spent with the family. And Ron. He was alone. Even Ginny couldn't muster the strength to face him. Harry knew he was the reason Ron had died. Why did he have to fight for _love? _Voldemort had been right all along. Only foolish people fought for love. Dumbledore hadn't been able to save himself with love. He'd sacrificed himself, causing an intense feeling of heartache, solitude and despair. Voldemort fed off those feelings. He'd known it would tear Harry up if his friends got killed. Merciless.

He had taken off to the Grimmauld Place, the only place that belonged to him. Having lost his two best friends - the two people that were the closest to him - the courageous flame had died inside Harry. He didn't feel like facing the world anymore. His fighting spirit had faded away. After all, what was worth fighting for? He had told Voldemort that the dark wizard would lose because he had nothing worth fighting for. And in return, the old fool had taken everything dear to Harry away. Everything Harry loved.

Harry still couldn't entail what had exactly happened to him. He could remember the war very clearly, but the quick succession of moments always made his head spin. He didn't know how he had managed to kill the Dark Lord. All he knew that he had sacrificed a lot. Not only his friends. Not only entire wizard families. He'd sacrificed a part of himself. He'd sacrificed his humanity.

Although everybody knew he lived there, he wasn't scared to be disturbed. Nobody would come. Nobody had come in the past six months. At first, Harry had been a bit scared that he would be overloaded by letters and journalists, asking what he would do now the war was over. But no such things. They probably didn't have the guts to come and smear the truth in his face.

As a matter of fact, they didn't have any right at all to come and ask him questions. Even though Harry knew they were talking about it, he didn't care. Not like he used to. If people wanted to talk, then they should. They hadn't lost what Harry had lost. Not in the same way. Not as ruthless. Voldemort had torn Harry apart, and he had tried to puzzle himself back together ever since. But the pieces didn't fit like they did before. His soul was damaged forever.

Dented. Shredded.

Harry made nothing off his life, nothing at all. He just sat home, remembering all the happy moments he had had with Ron and Hermione. Their very first moment, when he met Ron in the train. Harry was baffled by Ron's life, wanting to be just like him. Then, Hermione trotted in, all bossy. It wasn't until they defeated the Troll at Halloween that they managed to get along. After all, fighting a troll five times your size was one of the few things that could create an everlasting friendship.

Or what about the time when Harry had visited his parent's grave with Hermione. She was so comforting, knowing exactly how it felt. She had to erase her parent's memories to be able to come with him. The Grangers didn't even know they ever had a daughter. They didn't remember she was the brightest student of Hogwarts. They didn't even know she died. They'd forgotten what a wonderful person she was and they would never get their memories back.

Harry thought a lot about his fourth year as well, when he'd been fighting with Ron. He feared they would never get along again, until Harry faced the Hungarian Horntail. Without words, they just made up, and that was what Harry liked about Ron. Everything was simple with him. Even though Ron had never felt of enough value because he was the sixth Weasley, and though the Redhead felt like Harry deserved a better friend, there was no one who could ever replace him.

Harry drank the reality away. He didn't have a purpose anymore. Who needed The Boy Who Lived now the war was over? He had solved all their problems, so it was done. Besides, he had killed so many wizards and witches indirectly that Harry completely understood people were angry. Or that people wanted to forget about him.

All that was left was debris. Memories of what used to be. The Wizarding world was broken, just the way Voldemort would have liked it.

Harry was still circling through the same stream of thoughts when something made him look up. A knock. He didn't expect someone to knock on his door, especially not this late in the evening. Harry had been drinking all day and the alcohol was about to take over the last sane part of his mind. He considered not opening the door, but the ringing got on his nerves rather quickly. He would have a headache if it didn't stop.

He stood up to get it. He marched to the Hallway, passing by the veiled portrait of Mrs. Black. Even though all the Death Eaters were put away, the woman still had enough energy to scold. Every now and then, Harry opened the portrait, sitting down in front of it. He would listen to the mad woman, ranting on about Mudbloods and scum, spoiling her house. After a while, she seemed to tire out, and Harry would say goodnight before going upstairs. Even though he didn't put back the curtain, she was usually silent all night. Another urgent knock pulled Harry out of his second reverie. He made his way to the door, a dissatisfied pull around his mouth.

"What?" Harry asked unfriendly, opening the door. Right in front of him stood none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry's eyebrow disappeared in his hairline. To be honest, it was the first living person he'd seen in about three months. Three months ago, Molly had stopped by with some homemade cakes. She'd entered through the fireplace, startling Harry to no end.

She was very sad, a mother's heart unable to be healed. Nevertheless, Harry found it very courageous of her to stop by and ask how he was doing. Harry told her he was holding up quite alright, because it he'd been unable to increase the woman's heartache. She'd done so much for Harry since he'd first met her in his second year at Hogwarts. He couldn't damage her more than she already was.

However, he'd been able to sense Molly's unease. She knew he wasn't doing well. She'd seen it from the moment she'd entered the place. Still, Harry had tried to have a nice conversation before she left again. And now, Malfoy was standing in his front door. His face was pale, panic reflecting in the grey eyes. At the moment, Harry was too drunk to come up with reasons why the former Death Eater would be panicking, so he just brought out the only sentence that could muster.

"Malfoy? What brings you here?" Harry asked sarcastically. What the hell was he doing here? Harry didn't know about the present, but four or five months ago, the Ministry wanted him and his family – dead or alive. Not that Harry had been looking out for news like that, but it had occasionally jumped in his eye. Malfoy looked around him quickly, before replying in an urgent tone.

"Potter, please let me in. I – I don't have anywhere else to go." Harry's other eyebrow disappeared too. This was unbelievable. A Malfoy was begging to come into the house of the person who'd killed their Leader.

"Why? Did they burn down the manor or what?" Harry was getting more drunk because of the large amount of oxygen he breathed in and didn't feel like being interrupted, especially not by a former Death Eater, former followers of Voldemort. The man who had torn his soul apart.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your life Potter, I didn't know where to go." Malfoy seemed extremely desperate, hopping from one leg on the other and constantly looking around nervously. Harry sighed. He could at least let him in to tell his story. Besides, after spending so much time alone, Harry looked forward to being around someone, who didn't look at him with pity. Even if it was for only a short time. Even if it was Malfoy.

"Alright. Come in. You have five minutes. If I don't like it, I'll kick your Death-Eater-ass straight out again." He gestured the blonde to come in. Relief was written all over the pointy features, and Malfoy politely followed Harry into the house. They sat down in the kitchen and Harry made some tea.

The house was a dump, Harry didn't even know if he had tea, but he wanted to do the effort. He felt slightly ashamed from the amount of empty bottles around the kitchen, but then again Harry was a grown man, allowed to do whatever he pleased. Malfoy wouldn't have to ask questions. If he did, all Harry needed to do was kick him out.

"Tell me, what happened to the manor?" Harry asked to drown out the noise of his rumbling through the closets.

"The Aurors had barged in to arrest my father. He didn't volunteer to go along, so they started to fight. Father killed one of the Aurors, and another one killed my father. They captured my mother." Harry tried to process the large amount of information as quick as possible in his drunken brain. He was gradually becoming sober, the adrenalin of the situation making his body and his brain functioning again.

"Where were you?" Harry found the tea and heated some water with his wand. That was the only purpose of the magical stick now. Making food and opening beer bottles.

"I was in the dining room, I heard them talking and ran upstairs. No one saw me going. I left the house, taking the most important stuff and I fled. I can't go back there. They'll capture me too, when they find me." Harry finished the tea and put two steaming cups on the kitchen table, throwing some empty bottles on the floor. It surprised Harry Malfoy hadn't said anything about it yet.

Harry sat down and remained silent for a while to let the rest of the story sink in. "You're homeless," Harry said, matter of factly. "But what makes you think I can do anything to fix that?"

"It's all over the papers that you're locking yourself away. I figured no one would be here except you." Hearing that from Malfoy hit a raw nerve. How dare he put it like that? It wasn't his fault!

"Well, no one can be here because all of my friends were killed in the war, right?" Harry spat. It was all very touching that the former Slytherin had lost his precious family, but so had Harry. But he didn't go crying at someone else's door. He didn't go beg for help to anyone else.

"I'm sorry, I know I did the wrong thing by chickening out and staying in the shadow of the dark side, but what's done is done. There's no use crying over spilt milk." It surprised Harry that Malfoy could remain so cool about this. Harry sighed. Why did Malfoy come here? To torture him? To relive the past? Not that Malfoy's presence had anything to do with reliving the past, he could remember all of it anyway.

"I can help out here, you know. Since Dobby was fired, I took care of the food, so I'm pretty good at it." Now the git was already inviting himself in to stay. Way to go, Harry! He just wanted to be alone again, but he couldn't muster the strength to kick the man out. He'd witnessed how his father got killed. Seeing someone getting killed – someone you love – is very painful, even for Draco Malfoy. Harry couldn't kick him out even if he wanted to.

"Why are you like this Malfoy? Buying your way into my house, acting like you've changed for the better?" Harry's tone was firm, but Malfoy could probably see through Harry's play. He sucked at lying. That tiny little fact fitted with the written scar on the back of his left hand perfectly.

"I've got no one left, Potter. Don't you see? What was I supposed to do? You were honestly the only person I could think of that would consider letting me in." Even though Harry was flattered by the words, his gut told him not to buy it. It was Draco Malfoy he was dealing with. Someone who had taken part in defending the man who'd killed his two best friends. The blood was on his hands as well.

"You're wrong. I'm not letting you stay here. You're still the same person to me." Harry looked at Malfoy, but the latter looked away. He sipped his tea, letting the sugary drink warm up his inside. It had been ages since he'd had a non-alcoholic drink. He cheered up a little, gesturing at Malfoy to take a sip from his drink as well. Malfoy looked up again, desperation written all over his face.

Harry avoided his gaze again, trying to encompass everything that had happened so far. Malfoy showing up at his door, begging to let him in. To give him a place to stay. The Grimmauld Place was big enough to fit ten people, and if Harry wanted, he could give Malfoy five rooms all to himself. But something didn't make sense. Something confused Harry. Why was the blonde an open book now? Why was he asking for his hand after all this time?

Harry remembered the last time he'd seen that look of despair in the man's eyes. At that moment, the Room of Requirement was burning up, flames consuming everything inside those walls. Harry had reached out his hand, utter surprise written over the pale face. Malfoy's hand had felt cold and clammy, unlike the scorching heat surrounding them. The adrenalin rushing through Harry's body had enabled him to pull up the man with one hand, and rush to safety.

Harry had replayed the sight of Malfoy's desperation a hundred times in his mind when lying in his bed. It had affected him in a way he couldn't quite figure out. Malfoy pulled Harry back to the present when he spoke again.

"We both have no one left, so why not keep each other company?" It was a simple thing to say, yet it unleashed several emotions in Harry's body. He could feel his hero-complex rising and tried to ignore it. At the same time, irritation boiled up in his stomach, because Malfoy even had the nerve to mention they both had no one left. He didn't like it when the subject was mentioned, let alone it coming from the bloody Death Eater sitting in front of him. If he hadn't been drunk, he would have kicked the pale boy out straight away. But right now, Harry was still too intoxicated to do anything spectacular. Even though a lot was fading away already, Harry knew he would have reacted completely different when he wouldn't have been drunk.

"I'm not jumping to help you; but I'm not kicking you out either," Harry then replied. Making his mind up about the man was way too difficult right now. However, this was a fair deal. He would decide what happened tomorrow. Right now, Harry needed a beer. He abandoned his mug of tea, and the blonde sitting at the other side of the table and walked back to the living room.

* * *

Draco leaned back in his seat, while looking around at the mess. There were dirty dishes in the sink and the floor was covered with bottles. While Potter had been leading the way to the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice that the living room wasn't in a better state either. Draco realized the Survivor had big issues, but then he remembered his own trouble. The course of events slowly trickled through his brain and fell into place like a puzzle. Realization came in like a sledge hammer. In almost four hours he had lost his family, been on the edge of sanity and been adopted by Harry Potter.

It was strange putting it that way, but he lived with Potter now. Admitted, he didn't actually _live _with Potter, the Survivor had just allowed him to stay there for the night. Either way, there wasn't a hair on Draco's head that thought about leaving. He didn't want to go out there again, and face – whatever needed to be faced. Draco didn't know what was happening to him, when those Aurors barged into their house. The war had already taken its toll on his family. They could hardly be called a family, only weakened bonds held them together. Neither he, his father or his mother had any place else to go. They had avoided the Manor when the war had ended, knowing that when they would go there, the Aurors would lock them up in Azkaban. Draco as well, since he was an adult – and had the characteristic dark mark on his left forearm.

Eventually, they stopped running. Being fugitive wasn't something that fitted the Malfoy's profile, so they quickly gave up on it. They returned to the Manor and restored it in all its glory. Draco didn't know why it had taken the Aurors so long to see that they had returned. But in the end, they showed up. Draco was terrified. He'd heard stories from Azkaban that made the hairs in his neck rise, and he would rather die than go to those soul-sucking beasts.

He had vivid memories of his third year at Hogwarts when the Dementors had been all over the place. Of course, he'd teased Potter, because he was so vulnerable to them, but Draco knew what their function was. They sucked all the happiness out of you, until the only thing that's left was misery. Back in his third year, there wasn't much the Dementors could feed on when it came to Draco. He knew how to conceal his fears very well at that time. But when he was seventeen, Death Eater, and had the task to kill a man, he knew the Dementors would call that a feast.

Anyway, Draco was panic-stricken when his family's luck finally turned. Two massive gentlemen asked for his father, as his mother let them in. Draco didn't recognize the men, but he assumed they were Aurors. Narcissa offered the two men a seat in the sitting area and then went to find Lucius in his study. Draco could overhear their conversation. Narcissa told him the Aurors were there, and that she had gotten no choice but to let them in. His father was furious, raising his voice followed by a slap.

Draco heard his father descend the stairs and entering the sitting area. Lucius put on a mask as he offered the men something to drink. The Aurors weren't there to chit-chat. They came for business. They weren't friendly. Imprisoning him was the only reason they travelled to the Manor. Draco noticed the fear in his father's voice when he told them it must be a misunderstanding. He refused to come along, and the Aurors quickly got up, arming themselves. Lucius was as quick as a flash, countering the first arresting spell and firing one of his own. Narcissi stood in the doorway, watching in terror. The spell hit one of the Aurors – the one who'd unleashed the first spell. A green light lit the room. The other Auror reacted instantly, firing an Avada Kedavra himself. Lucius had a surprised expression on his face when he fell. If his eyes had been closed, you would believe he was asleep. But Draco knew better.

His father was dead. Draco didn't feel much. He was paralyzed, not really understanding that he had just lost his father. He couldn't grasp the fast pace of events taking place, and he was still trying to process the information while the Auror took his mother. Draco didn't protest. He didn't run downstairs, didn't try to release her from the Auror's grip. He just watched as Narcissa cried her heart out, not even trying to struggle.

Draco suspected the Auror to search the rest of the Manor for him, but instead the Auror left. Draco assumed he would first have to bring in his mother and report the death of his father and the other Auror. However, Draco knew the man wasn't smart to do that. It was Draco's chance to get away. Even though part of Draco wanted to stay, wanted to fight for his parents and the family's dignity, his heart knew better. They would return for him. They would be as merciless as they were with his father.

Draco got scared and ran. He ran away from all he knew, all he had ever known. He only grabbed the most important stuff, to make sure the Aurors wouldn't notice he'd taken off. If they didn't know he'd witness the captivity of his parents, they wouldn't know he'd fled. Of course, they would eventually find out, but it could give Draco a head start. He left on foot, not wanting to leave any trail of magic behind. He hoped that would be enough to hold them back, at least for a little while.

Being blinded by fear, all he could to think about was that moment in the room of requirement. During that moment he had feared for his life. It was a kind of fear he'd never felt before. The fear of nothingness. Not knowing what would come next. His state of mind resembled that emotion right now. Draco was positive that he was going to die that night in the room. The burning fire made it difficult to breathe. He tried to find a way out of it, desperation taking the better part of him. Out of nowhere, Potter came along and saved his guts. He brought back the sanity in Draco's head, made sure that even though the war was still raging, Draco wouldn't be burned to death. He appeared on that broomstick, looking like a guardian angel. He'd helped him without a word.

That was the reason why Draco decided to find Potter. He knew if he would want to find a place to stay – for a short while – Potter would be his only option. Where else could he go? Who else would save him? If Potter refused, nobody would be so generous to help him. The former Gryffindor was his only hope. That tiny little light had lead him to where he was sitting now.

At the kitchen table, in Potter's dump. The Survivor was pissed, probably having another beer in the room next to him. However, at this very moment it didn't matter, he had a place to stay. He had a new home, a refuge - even though it was just temporary. Although the reality was still out there, Draco could hide from it for a while. It felt like a sanctuary.

Draco looked around the kitchen again. He wondered when the last time was Potter had actually done the dishes, or cleaned up for that matter. He was shocked by the state of Potter's home. It was disgusting. Potter clearly had a drinking problem. What had caused the man to feel so low? Was it because he'd lost both of his friends in the war. Admitted, Draco would feel very depressed after that too.

Even though Potter had offered him one night, Draco felt like he was intruding Potter's home and Potter's feelings. The papers speculated about Potter's fate, describing him as a hero in one edition, then calling him insane in the other. Draco was thrown back and forth between his own problems and Potters. His body coped with conflicting emotions, from desperation to relief and from anxiety to safety. He could explode any moment.

But apart from all this, Draco could say he was happy. For the first moment ever since that damn war had started, he felt proud of something he'd achieved and had acted independently. Nobody had told him what to do. No one had told him where to go. He smiled at the empty room, knowing he'd done the right thing.

**To be continued…**

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Solitude

**As promised, the next chapter. I have made some progress on the story, but not enough to keep up the pace. I've been with my nose in the books all week, trying to study for my exams. They last until the end of next week, but then I have new classes to take up. Anyway, I'll see what I can do. Thanks for the lovely reviews, follows and favourites! I'll try my best to update asap!**

**For now, enjoy.**

Chapter 2  
Solitude

Harry froze in the doorway when he entered the kitchen, eying the visitor's back. It was quite a shock when he saw another man sitting at his breakfast table. Honestly, he had forgotten all about his visit the other day. Harry wasn't very satisfied with his decision. He once had a visit from a housemaid – a male one – who nearly fainted when he entered his home. He had told him Harry couldn't live like that anymore, and that he refused to keep cleaning up his shit. Harry had grabbed the man by his collar and put him outside, throwing some words at the man that would curl Molly Weasley's hair. He didn't pay for people who didn't want to do their job.

Ever since that incident, he hadn't had any visits. So it was quite normal that Harry nearly had a heart attack, seeing a blonde, handsome man sitting at his very own kitchen table.

"Morning," Harry said stiffly. He had a hangover, a morning ritual by now and didn't feel like communicating. Malfoy had taken advantage of his drunken state yesterday and Harry knew there was no way he could take his words back. Harry halted in front of the kitchen table, eying the frying pan with scrambled eggs and the fresh coffee moodily.

"Good Morning, Potter. I made you some breakfast with the stuff I could find. You know you don't have anything edible in your house anymore right?" Malfoy acted creepily friendly, something Harry didn't find fitting with the personality he knew. His head was pounding, and his body was aching. All he could manage to bring out was: "Whatever. I'm hungover, leave me alone."

Harry was obvious to the small smile Malfoy gave at that, and sat down on the other available chair, a grumpy look plastered across his face. "That's my place, you know. I always sit there," Harry stated, already getting enervated with the company. What had he done yesterday? Why had he given in to that horrible creature? Who was this alien sitting in his kitchen and where had Malfoy gone?

"Sorry. It didn't have a name on it. I'll take the other one next time. Besides, I know a potion that helps getting rid of hangovers. I would just need the right ingredients." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Check upstairs. Maybe you'll find something there," Harry said sarcastically, knowing there was nothing upstairs except trash. The civilized conversation was annoying him to no end.

"Great. You're not a morning person then. Good for me." With those words, Malfoy stood up and walked to the sink. He filled a bucket, while Harry nibbled on his toast, hesitating to grab a bit of the delicious smelling eggs. Then all of a sudden Harry was soaking wet.

"What the - !" Harry jumped up, turning around and seeing Malfoy holding an empty bucket. "What was that for?!" Harry screamed. If Malfoy didn't get out of his damn house right this instant, he would skin him alive!

"For your hangover!" Malfoy screamed back. Harry felt very dizzy, which slowed down his attacking movements.

"It wasn't a question, you idiot!" Harry spat. His head suddenly cleared up, but his headache only increased, a sledgehammer trying to breach his skull. He sank down on his chair again. "You're going to clean this mess up Malfoy," he brimmed. He grabbed the toast and threw it across the room in anger.

"It's your mess. You're the one with the hangover and a drinking problem, having nothing to eat in his despicable house." Malfoy had crossed a line. No one, NO ONE was allowed to meddle in Harry's way of living.

"That's it. Get out! GET OUT, Malfoy! I mean it!" Harry roared, jumping up again and pushing Malfoy in the chest. He was so pissed that the blonde had the nerve to barge into his house and then tell him what to do and not to do. Who did he think he was? He was on the run for Aurors while his father had just been killed. How did he even _dare _to talk about his lifestyle? At least he wasn't hiding away from everyone!

"What's wrong with you Potter? I don't know what happened to you, but you're not yourself anymore. Look at you. You're a mess." Malfoy's grey eyes were vicious. Finally, something recognizable to Harry. Still, the Survivor was blinded by rage, ready to go for the kill if that was necessary.

"Get. Out. Right. NOW!" Harry screamed. His temper increased and he felt the angriness rushing through his veins. The cold shower only made him boil.

"I'm not going anywhere Potter! Calm down already!" Malfoy answered coolly. He seemed unaffected by the former Hero's rage. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. The threatening gesture nearly made Harry explode. He looked for his own wand, but couldn't remember where he had put it last night. He figured he wouldn't die doing nothing, so he stepped forward and started to strangle Malfoy.

Harry got pushed away and fell over. He hit the corner of the table, hurting his head. The ache added up to his agony, nausea washing over him.

"Imperturbatus," Malfoy said. Harry wanted to defend himself, not knowing what spell Malfoy had just used, but calmed down instantly. Why was he calming down? Was he dying? A desperate feeling mingled with his soothing state of mind.

"What- what did you do?" Harry whispered.

"I just calmed you down, Potter. You're going to get yourself killed like this. Episkey." Harry could feel how the pain in his head decreased and sighed. He touched his head, feeling only some blood, the cut having disappeared.

"You don't have to take care of me. I hate that." Harry got up, the grumpiness creeping back into his skin as the previous spell wore off. He hated being taken care of. He wasn't a child. He had defeated Voldemort for Merlin's sake! Nobody took care of him then, why do the effort now?

"You can't go on like this, Potter. Maybe it'll take some time to get that through you skull, but either way you need someone to take care of you." Harry looked up, not even believing that was coming from someone who had wanted his skin all along.

"Malfoy. I don't want you here. Could you please leave?" Harry sighed. It seemed that calming spell still worked, because normally he would be screaming again.

"No I can't. I have no place to go. I'm staying right here," Malfoy replied matter of factly.

"Then you make sure you find something before I kick your dirty Death Eater's ass out," Harry barked. He sat down on his chair again, obvious to the wetness of it, since he was still soaking. He couldn't find his wand to fix it, so he just took up another piece of toast and started nibbling on that one.

"You're fucking pathetic, Potter. I can't even believe my eyes," Malfoy sneered, sitting down in front of him. Malfoy's words cut like a knife. Nobody had ever called him pathetic. Nobody had ever called him anything in the past few months. All they did was look at him, pity written all over their faces.

"What did you expect? That I would've married a lovely girl, having several children and sharing my enormous amount of money with the poor? I'm done living up to everyone's expectations," Harry groused.

"I'm not asking you to marry someone. I'm just shocked you're living like a swine, that's all."

"I'm NOT a SWINE, Malfoy!" Harry thundered, jumping up again, his chair falling over and the glasses on the table shaking dangerously. His head spun around like a disco ball, but he ignored the nauseating wave and stepped forward to make Malfoy pay for his inappropriate language.

He took one step, but faltered. This was probably Malfoy messing with his head again. "I'm telling you Malfoy, I'm going – but then his vision went black, and he fell over, hitting his head on the table for the second time that morning.

* * *

Draco didn't know what to do. Potter's life was a mess. Was he even aware of how messed up he was? Draco put the man in bed, and couldn't help but notice it had been ages since Potter had slept in that room. Draco knew he had to do something about it, but he couldn't figure out what. He wasn't that good at fixing things. Destroying went a lot easier.

Nevertheless, Draco knew where he had to start. He had to start by cleaning up the house and throwing all the alcohol out. That would piss the raven-haired man of, no doubt about that.

An hour later, the kitchen looked brand-new and Draco was exhausted. He had used as much magic as he could, but still it had taken him ages to clean Potter's unhygienic place. It was obvious the man could hardly cook, since the cooker was devastated. Draco heard steps on the landing, and prepared for another fight with the former Golden Boy.

"Malfoy? You're still here?" Potter asked sleepily. Potter looked as if the few hours sleep had done him well. Draco watched the man coming down and sighed.

"I told you, Potter. I'll leave as soon as I can." Draco resisted rolling with his eyes. He didn't want to infuriate Potter again.

"Whatever," Potter replied, sinking down on the grubby sofa. Draco wrinkled his nose. It was repugnant.

"You'll have to move. I haven't cleaned there yet."

"Are you the cleaning lady now?" Potter spat. The raven-haired man was waking up fast. Draco lifted an eyebrow. He wasn't used to that tone. Back at Hogwarts, Potter always _wanted_ to insult him, but no matter what he said, it always sounded too farfetched and not really sincere. Right now, the man could kill with words. He was dangerous.

"I'm not the cleaning lady. I'm just cleaning it up, as a reward for letting me stay here. Now, could you move? I was busy here."

"Nothing's changed. You couldn't have been busy. You were probably wanking, maybe that's why you look so flustered," Potter muttered. Draco's eyes widened at Potter's remark. Where did he get the nerve to talk to him like that? What had crawled into that man's skin?

"Excuse me! I'm all sweaty because it took me all my power to clean your damn stove. Salazar, what happened to you!" Draco threw his hands in the air, perplexed by the former Gryffindor's behavior. It was obvious the man had been alone for too long.

"I'll go sit in the kitchen then," Potter replied, not even intimidated by Draco's infuriated tone. He walked past him as if he was just air, his head held up.

"Well, whatever Potter! If you're going to be like this, I'll make sure to find something as soon as possible. There's no way I'm staying in this dump. I'm a Malfoy." Draco crossed his arms across his chest, while Potter stopped walking to the kitchen and turned around to reply.

"Good. I didn't know Malfoy's were cleaning ladies."

"I'm not the cleaning lady, Potter!" Draco was ready to explode any minute now. His wand was blowing hot sparks because of his frustration. "But mind you, I'm the one in charge here. If you want your mess cleaned, you'll have to behave."

"I haven't had company in months. And then the only company I get is _you. _How am I supposed to behave?" Potter whined. Draco bit his tongue, trying to withhold himself from attacking the poor excuse for a human being standing in front of him.

"That's it. I'm not talking to you anymore." Draco prepared mentally to start cleaning up the living room, and left Potter for what he was. He knew it was the alcohol that made Potter so grumpy. There was something about the Wizard's alcoholic beverages that consumed you when you drank too much. Draco knew that, because his father wasn't himself either when he drank too much.

Draco wasn't good with Potter. How was he going to make him sober? Honestly, right now he would even have asked Granger, but he knew she had passed away during the war. And the Weasel too. It must've been hard to have nobody left. Draco knew how it felt. He never _had _anybody, so it must've been even harder to lose them.

Draco didn't know why he was so determined to help Potter. Potter had saved his life, and he knew his mother had saved Potter's, but _his_ debt hadn't been paid yet. The least he could do was make Potter rehab.

* * *

Harry felt miserable. Malfoy was living with him and cleaning the mess he had made. Harry knew he hadn't taken care of himself. He had lost himself completely, but there was no way back now. He felt ashamed for his house, and having Malfoy, prudish Malfoy dirtying his hands for him was unbearable.

Still, it was his life, and if Malfoy wanted to stay here, he would have to mind his own business. He was living alone for six months now, and was doing fine. Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to convince himself of his last statement. He _was_ fine. As fine as he could get.

Malfoy had gone out to fetch them something to eat and had ordered Harry to stay where he was. Harry wasn't a dog, so he didn't feel like listening. Harry had noticed Malfoy had thrown out all his boozes, so right now he was feeling grim. He had saved some up somewhere, but he couldn't remember where exactly.

Harry checked all the spots he could remember, and found some old Firewhisky. Malfoy acted just like Hermione, so motherly. She would have disapproved what Harry was doing. She would have wanted him to continue his life. But who In the Wizarding World was he to tell what Hermione would have been saying to him? She wasn't here. She couldn't think anymore. Harry sank down in the couch as memories haunted his mind.

Hermione was dead. Voldemort had taken her life. Harry had seen how she was hit by a curse. Her veins went black as if her blood had turned into ink. Her face stiffened and the life was drained out of her eyes. She fell forward, hitting the ground lifelessly. Harry screamed, but his voice couldn't overpower the chaos of the War. He reached for her as Ron, his best mate, did the same. Voldmort unleashed another spell, hitting the bewildered Ron in the face. Immediately a large cut started to make his way down his body, blood pouring out of it while Ron gasped in shock. "Ron! Ron!" Harry screamed, trying to get closer to him. "Episkey!" Harry tried to heal the wounds but his healing spells didn't work. Ron's blue eyes stared into his, haunted by pain and sorrow. "Get him for us, Harry. Make him pay," he brought out shivery. "No. No, no, no!" Harry brought out, Ron's hand losing grip on his.

Harry turned around, facing the man who'd just taken the life of his two best friends, a murderous look in his dangerous green eyes. Voldemort was prepared, hitting Harry with the Killing curse as soon as he turned around. But it didn't kill him like it had killed Hermione.

Like it killed Ron. Sirius. Cedric. His mother. And James, his father. Harry snapped out of his memory, feeling depressed. Every time he became sober, the images of the ones he loved haunted his memory. The relived all their last moments, tortured by his own mind. Harry took a large sip from the bottle. The whisky burned away the memories. It burned away his emotions. His humanity.

It couldn't go on like this.

* * *

When Draco returned, he found an unconscious Potter on the sofa. He shook his head when he saw the bottle of Firewhisky on the floor and ignored the whole scene. He unpacked his groceries in the kitchen and started to prepare a lovely dinner.

When Draco had set the table, and fetched some candles to put on the kitchen table, he entered the living room. The place was disgusting, and Draco dreaded cleaning that part of the house, since it seemed Potters favorite spot. He just nudged the man slightly, not really wanting to touch him. There was a vapor of alcohol surrounding him, making Draco's eyes sting.

"Potter! Get up, Merlin's beard, what's wrong with you?!" Draco stepped back quickly, to avoid any uncontrolled movements Potter could make. The man's eyes opened slowly, a confused frown creasing his forehead.

"What? Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Potter looked around like a kid who had just lost his mom in Diagon Alley.

"Brilliant. I'll just wait for your memory to come back. In the meantime, would you mind taking a seat in the kitchen? I prepared some food. You could use that."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a toddler, Malfoy. It's only because of _me _that you can stay here." Well, he got his memory back very quickly. Draco rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen to start eating. Potter soon followed, and started to stuff the food into his mouth, without even tasting it. That stung a little, since Draco had tried his hardest to make something delicious.

"You know, I'm not trying to sound sentimental, but there used to be some sort of aura around you. As in, a certain motivation to keep going, no matter what misery you were going through. I always admired that about you, Potter. And it's gone." Draco took a bite from the gratin dauphinois, the crust crackling in his mouth. He then looked up at Potter, who was eating like a swine.

"It died along with my friends." How was it even possible to talk with such a mouthful?

"Don't try to shove everything onto the death of your friends Potter. In the end, you didn't love the Weaslette like Weasley loved Granger. You'd have ended up alone anyway." Immediately, something about Potter changed. A dark gleam sneaked into his emerald orbs, causing Draco to shift in his seat.

"I'd still have my friends. That would have been sufficient." Potter kept putting the food into his mouth, as if he was trying to break the fast-eating record.

"I think it died with You Know Who. When you killed him, a part of you died with him." Draco chose his words cautiously, not wanting to end up with a hot-tempered Survivor. Potter seemed to be in his talking mood, because he answered again.

"A part of me died with my friends, Malfoy. But hey, what do you know about friendship? The only relation you've ever had was the one with your bodyguards."

"Whatever Potter. I'm not whining about them being dead, am I?"

"Are they dead?" Potter asked dumbly.

"Yes. They were killed. And their parents have already received the Dementor's kiss. My father would have received it if he hadn't defended himself." Potter seemed to think about that for a while, and Draco continued eating. He cut a small piece of his slice of roast beef. He never would have expected Potter to give up like that. He had abandoned his life, like he had abandoned the rest of the Wizarding World. Draco had thought he just wanted some privacy, that he would want some rest. But all he wanted was to escape from the life he was leading.

"I- I didn't know," Potter stammered. He stopped had stopped eating and swallowed the food left in his mouth. He looked up at Draco, regret written all over his face. It was the first time since Draco had arrived that Potter showed his emotion, apart from the anger.

"It's fine. I'm trying to deal with it. Life goes on, no matter what." Draco offered the man some more lettuce, to prevent the tears from appearing in his eyes.

"Sometimes it doesn't," Potter replied. Both men went back to eating, silence hanging around the table.

* * *

Draco had started cleaning upstairs when he ran across a drawing. He had been emptying a desk in Potters room, and was now observing the drawn version of Hermione Granger, waving at him with a large smile. The pencil strokes were soft, and moved when she started waving. It was amazing. Even though he'd been a wizard all his life, he'd never seen a picture like that before. The smile appearing on Granger's lips, disappeared again, and then the motion started all over again.

Did Potter do that?

"Hey Potter!" Draco called downstairs. He had learned the man some efficient and simple cleaning spells and had ordered him to finish the work downstairs. Lucky for Draco, he listened. He heard the man bouncing up the stairs and looking for the right room.

"What's up Malfoy?"

"I found this. Did you draw it?" Draco held up the drawing as Potter entered the room. Within seconds Potter was next to him and had snatched to portrait out of his hands.

"Don't touch that! It's not yours!" A red taint spread across Potter's neck, and Draco eyed him with a small grin. Was he blushing over a drawing? However, the glare in his poisonous eyes could kill on sight. Draco quickly explained himself, before the lunatic considered hexing him.

"I was just cleaning up. I wasn't going to throw it away. I asked: did you make it?"

"I did. Why?"

"I didn't know you could make that potion. That's a very hard one to do. That's why I found some rattails earlier," Draco said thoughtfully. Potter just grumbled, trying to find a place to put his drawing as Draco watched him.

"You could do something with that. You draw really good."

"Better than you. I still remember your stupid drawing in third year." Draco's face lit up by the memory. He'd drawn Potter falling off his broom at Quidditch, and folded it into a bird.

"It was art, Potter. Pure art," Draco smiled looking up. Potter's anger had made room for sorrow, the emotion haunting his eyes, ripping him apart inside. It was painful to watch. Draco left the room to give the man some time. Seeing his green orbs overflow with memories, tears would certainly come. He knew Potter wouldn't like him to witness that, but frankly he didn't really want to see it anyway.

He had never seen Potter break down like this. He had never been so low in his entire life. Somehow, Draco was the only one who knew about this. It frightened him. Because, if such a strong man could be reduced to this, there was no hope for Draco either.

There was no hope for anyone.

* * *

Harry's vision went blurry. Hermione's smile cut him like a knife, memories starting to haunt him. She had always been there for him. Even when Ron had left their side, she'd been there. She'd taken care of him. He thought back about their days in the tent, wishing he'd done what Hermione had suggested one day. "Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old." The forest of Dean. Harry wished he could go back and change it. He'd thought about tracking down the time turner many times, but he knew it would be impossible. He would make mistakes. He would screw up. After all, Hermione wasn't there to help him. Dumbledore wasn't there to tell him how to work it. And Ron wasn't there to encourage him to pursue his stupid idea, no matter how mental or irresponsible it was.

Tears streamed down Harry's face, falling from his eyes like pouring rain. He put the drawing on the desk again, not wanting teardrops to ruin his memory of the brightest student of Hogwarts. It should have remained hidden in the drawer. Harry couldn't believe what Malfoy had done. He'd intruded his house, and now he was already nosing through his personal stuff! This couldn't go on like this. Instead of cleaning his house, he should start looking for a place to go.

The Death Eater had to move. Harry wiped his tears away, trying to erase the tracks they'd made down his cheeks and ran downstairs. Malfoy was cleaning the couch, obvious to him walking up to the blonde. "You have to leave," Harry said. His sudden appearance startled the former Slytherin, fear and desperation appearing in his silver gaze for a moment. When his eyes focused on Harry, the emotions disappeared, making room for relief.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Of course there's something wrong. You come in here like you own the place and go through my personal stuff. I didn't ask you to clean the damn house and I want you to stop instantly. You have to find another place to go, and I want that right now!" Harry snapped, holding up his head, standing up straighter. Confusion appeared on Malfoy's face.

"I… I'm still cleaning up. I want do that in return for letting me stay here."

"I'm not letting you stay here any longer. I was fine with the mess last month and I'm fine with it now. I don't want you to intrude my life."

"Your life? You call that a life, Potter? You're a silly excuse for a human being, that's all!" Malfoy bit. He stopped doing whatever he was trying to do to the couch to look at Harry. His words set Harry on fire. Literally.

"How dare you!" Harry growled, jumping forward. He pushed the blonde over, making him hit the ground. He then jumped on top of him, holding him down with his hips. Malfoy struggled against Harry, trying to get away from him.

"What are you doing?! You lunatic! Get off me! Get OFF!" Malfoy shouted. Harry's firm grip on the blonde's shoulder prevented him from getting anywhere.

"You're not allowed to talk to me like that, Malfoy! You have _no idea _what I have endured. You don't know how hard it is!" Harry brought out, his voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to hurt the man lying beneath him, but he didn't have the power. His grip loosened. "You have no idea," he whispered again. A single tear fell down his cheek, as he stared down at Malfoy. The man stopped struggling, their eyes locked. Harry avoided his gaze, looking at the empty fireplace. A cold shiver ran down his spine, grief consuming all the anger left inside. The coldness touched his heart, making it freeze until the only thing left was numbness.

Malfoy shifted, crawling from underneath him. He sat down on the ground next to Harry, crossing his legs. Harry kept facing the fireplace, not wanting to meet Malfoy's eyes. He shouldn't see him like this. He shouldn't let down his guard. Malfoy scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders. Alarmed, Harry wanted to pull away, but the firm grip prevented him from going anywhere.

"Let go of me," he protested. Malfoy just pulled him closer, until their chests touched. Malfoy's fragrance hung around him, the sweet smell tickling his nose gently. Harry closed his eyes, giving in to the moment. He'd been lonely for such a long time. The way Malfoy embraced him felt like the first day of sun after months of snow. Time stood still. The only thing Harry could think about was the steady thumping of Malfoy's heart. The rising and falling of his chest against his cheek. The strong hands leaving burning marks on his shoulders. Then Malfoy's voice interrupted the silence.

"You're right. I don't know how hard it is, Potter. I can only imagine what you've been through. But I know you'll get by. You always have." Harry didn't know what to say. His anger and sorrow had vanished. The emptiness he felt was slowly disappearing, still holding on to Malfoy.

Then they let go. The smell lingered on Harry's skin, but then started to fade away. The warmth was consumed by the chilliness of the room. Harry looked down at his feet, avoiding Malfoy's eyes.

"Please don't send me away. I have nowhere to go. They'll send me to Azkaban. You know what Dementors can do. Please don't let me go." The panic and desperation in Malfoy's voice were clearly audible.

"Fine. You can stay here. For now." Still, the begging tone wasn't the reason why Harry decided he could stay. Harry got up and left the living room. He made his way upstairs again, still feeling the tight hug around his body. It was just a simple gesture, but it had moved Harry.

**To be continued…  
Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: Breaching the Walls

**I did a great job on the story so far - nearly finished chapter 7! However, I have a cold, still have two exams left and have been doing better. Anyways, I won't let that prevent you from reading the next part. I love the reviews and favourites, don't hesitate to leave a comment!**

**Enjoy**

Chapter 3  
Breaching the walls

Draco couldn't sleep. He'd been tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about his mother. She must live in terror. She had witnessed how her man got killed and was now about to be put away in Azkaban. The woman hadn't done anything wrong. For Salazar's sake she had only tried to save her family. Who wouldn't?

The icy blue eyes that belonged to his father were burned on Draco's retina. "You have to do this for the honor of the family, Draco. You don't want to disappoint me. If you do this, the Dark Lord will reward my loyalty to him. The Malfoy family needs this Draco. Our faith is in your hands."

Draco opened his eyes again, a cold shiver running down his spine. He pulled back the covers and stepped out of his bed, bare feet touching the stone floor. He marched to the stairs, but upon coming down, he heard voices in the hall. Draco stopped, crouched down and looked downstairs through the banister.

Potter was sitting on a stool, facing Mrs. Black's portrait. Draco knew the woman didn't like intruders in her house, especially not half-bloods. As Potter was the owner of this place, and a half-blood, she must be going through hell. She resembled his mothers niece, Bellatrix. However, it wasn't the old lady that caught Draco's attention. It was the raven-haired man, who spoke softly, barely audible while facing his feet.

"I don't know why I feel so bad about it, you know. I've always known that I would be forced to do it. But now that it's done, I can't get it off my chest. I just keep thinking about it. He was a human being. No matter how evil or rotten he was, he was a person. The person whose life I ended." Potter paused, to take a draught from his bottle, locking his eyes with Mrs. Black briefly. "Have you ever killed a person, Walburga?" A dark emotion was haunting his emerald eyes, his drunken state already showing through his behavior.

"I never killed anybody. Except for a Muggle once, but that wasn't a great loss," Mrs. Black responded. Potter didn't even seem to notice she mentioned Muggles, because he continued without questioning her answer: " The worst part is, he's killed everybody. All the people I loved. Ron. Hermione. Dumbledore. Sirius-" Potter trailed off again, sunken in his own thoughts. Draco figured he was thinking about his loved-ones. The man was entangled in his emotions, guilt mixed up with revenge, grief and confusion.

"I always thought that boy would be a wretch. He ran away when he was young, thinking he was so much better! Filthy betrayer. He broke his mother's heart." Even though Mrs. Black hadn't exactly replied to Potter's talk, the Survivor looked up again, compassion in his eyes.

"I understand how you feel, Mrs. Black. Sirius was never good enough in your eyes. At least that's how he felt. He meant a lot to me. He did wonderful things, you see. You should be proud of him. You should be proud of Regulus as well. Even though he made things a little more difficult, he helped me as well." Mrs. Black shook her head while thinking about her sons. She shrugged, then changed the subject back.

"I'm sure you must have people left. What about the Malfoy wandering around?" Draco shifted upon hearing his name. He shouldn't be overhearing their conversation, but it was too late to go now.

"Malfoy? Oh, he's just here because he's got nowhere else to go. He doesn't really care about me. I don't mind him being here, though he gets on my nerves sometimes. Malfoy's not a friend." Disappointment settled inside Draco's stomach. Not a friend. What had he expected? That Potter would declare his everlasting love to him? Even though Draco knew Potter didn't like him, he had somehow hoped there was something connecting them. Anything. Mrs. Black interrupted Draco's reverie, and Draco focused on the scene downstairs again.

"Think about it. There must be someone else."

"Hagrid is at Hogwarts, trying to restore the place. He belongs there. I can't go. It contains too much memories about, … them. Hogwarts is not my home anymore. The only place I've got left is here. And even this only reminds me of Sirius. The order. And all the time we've spent here. Sirius was never happy here, did you know? I've never been happy here either. The only reason I used to come here was to see my Godfather." Potter gulped down the last draught of his beer, getting caught up in his own thoughts again.

"Cut your whining, Potter. You need to get yourself together," Mrs. Black responded. To Draco's surprise, a small smile crossed the former Gryffindor's face.

"That sounded just like Moody," he replied. Then the smile disappeared again. Draco could tell Potter was thinking about the crazy Auror. He'd been killed as well, not long before the War started. The mutual silence gave Draco some time to think about what had been said. Potter missed his friends, felt guilty for having to kill the Dark Lord and didn't mind Draco being around. He also knew that what Potter was saying now, came straight from his heart. Drunken people didn't lie.

Draco marched up the stairs again, silently making his way to his room again. He found it hard to see Potter unhappy. He was losing himself in the battle of his conflicting emotions. There was nobody to guide him to sanity. The man had fought so hard to achieve things no one had ever done. He'd encouraged the entire Wizard World and was now left to fade away. Nobody looked after him. Nobody cared. A sudden rage filled Draco's heart. The powerlessness took his breath away, the sudden heat burning him up under his blanket.

Potter was left behind.

* * *

Harry turned around in his sleep, eyes moving quickly while he was dreaming. In his head a high girl's scream hit his eardrums. "Hermione!" Harry called out, reaching for his friend. Harry was surrounded by debris. A dead body was lying only a few feet away. Heart-rending screams overpowered by deafening explosions of striking spells could be heard. Hermione, who'd just gotten hit by a curse, was facing him.

"Harry, what's happening to me?" Her begging tone caused a wave of nausea to wash over Harry. He walked over to his friend, supporting her with his arms. Hermione's brown eyes turned to black, resembling the eyes of the demon in the locket. Harry sank down onto the ground, the girl still in his arms. Anxiety rushed through his body, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage.

"I don't, I don't know. You'll be fine Hermione!" Harry said, as dark lines appeared in her ashened face. Hermione's face went blurry, the scenery changed. The landscape evolved from debris into woods. Hermione, who was lying in his arms, got up, a dark smoke starting to surround her. Harry looked around to see if anyone else was there, but the place was deserted. Harry recognized the place as the Forest of Dean. Hermione's voice interrupted the silence.

"Harry Potter. I've seen your heart. And it belongs to me. You're weak, Harry Potter. Weak. No one will ever love you. Not like I love Ronald." Harry crawled backwards, while the demon came closer and closer. The smoke reached his arm, leaving a burned mark where it hit him.

"The only reason people like you is because of your fame, Harry Potter. Fame for things you didn't do. Fame for the Dark Lord's achievements. People don't like you. The smoke surrounded him and burned up his entire body. Then all of a sudden, Ron appeared in the smoke. He came standing next to Hermione, holding hands with her. His blue eyes had turned dark as well, and when he spoke, his voice didn't sound natural.

"I never wanted to be friends with you. I only wanted your fame. Because you'll _never_ be more than the famous Harry Potter." Tears streamed down Harry's face, although he didn't know whether it was because of the stinging smoke or the things his friends were saying. Harry wiped his eyes, and when he looked up again, the smoke had cleared. Debris was scattered around the old castle, the dead body of Hermione at his feet. He was back at Hogwarts.

"NO! No!" A male voice interrupted. A redhead stepped forward, grabbing the stone cold black hands of his girlfriend. All Harry could do was watch how a blue light hit his best friend in the chest, a cut appearing where the light had hit him. It crept up and down simultaneously, as if someone was just drawing a line. But the blood that started to drip was real. Everything was going in slow motion.

"Ron!" Harry screamed, he reached for him, but Voldemort's cold hands withheld him. "No!No! Ron! Please!" A humorless laugh resounded in Harry's ear. Harry wanted to turn around, but someone had gotten a hold of him. Harry tried to free himself, struggling against Voldemort's bony fingers.

"I want to help!" Harry wept, a helpless cry escaping from his lips. "I want to help," he whispered.

"You can't help, Potter. You can't. Just calm down." Harry frowned, not knowing where Malfoy came from all of a sudden. After a few seconds, Harry became aware of his whereabouts. Reality trickled into his head, and he realized he had been dreaming. Harry was in his room at Grimauld Place, curled up in Malfoy's arms.

"You're awake," Malfoy said relieved. Malfoy's left arm was wrapped around Harry's chest, his right hand hovering over his head, long slender fingers touching his cheek.

"What are you doing?" Harry brought out. He wanted to free himself from Malfoy's grip, looking around bewildered. Where had Ron and Hermione gone?

"You had a bad dream. I tried to wake you out of it. Calm down. There's no one here."

"I- I should have helped," Harry whined, looking around the dim room in confusion.

"Shhh… Potter. It's okay. I'm here now." Malfoy kept shushing him, gently patting his hair.

"No! You don't understand!" Harry screamed. He freed himself from Malfoy's hands, crawling away while using the blanked as a safety shield. He paused, sunken in his thoughts, then a low whisper followed: "No one loves me."

"Potter. You're talking nonsense. Calm down. It was just a bad dream." Malfoy got up, trying to get closer to him. Harry eyed him cautiously, a firm grip on his blanket.

"They're _never _just bad dreams, Malfoy. Don't you ever touch me again."

"I – I just wanted to, …" Malfoy looked lost, unable to finish his sentence. "I'm going back to bed. Don't dream badly anymore."

"As if I got a say in it," Harry snapped. Malfoy just shrugged and walked to Harry's bedroom door. He disappeared before it closed softly. Harry was alone. He looked around. Why had he been so rude? The chilly room made cold shivers run down his spine. _"No one will ever love you."_

* * *

Harry came down the stairs, a delicious aroma of creamy butter and stewed beef penetrating his nose. He walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table. Admitted, having a personal cook was a real improvement over the lonely days.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Harry asked. Malfoy hadn't heard him coming, and was a bit startled. In a way, Harry thought it was funny. A jumpy Malfoy.

"Do what?" Malfoy responded. He was busy chopping chive into small bits. At the same time, he was stirring the champignon sauce on the stove with his wand.

"Taking care of me. I never asked you to." Harry spun the cup on the table with his hand. Malfoy didn't stop his actions, he just responded, his back still facing the Survivor.

"It's the least I could do. You let me stay here."

"Then stay here. I didn't ask you to cook me dinner, or do my laundry."

"I didn't need to be asked. I'm just doing you a favor because you're letting me stay here," Malfoy repeated. Harry rolled his eyes, a sudden anger boiling up inside him.

"Just stop it! I don't need anyone taking care of me! I was doing fine on my own." He had jumped up from his seat, and his angry tone made Malfoy stop cooking and turn around to face him.

"Please Potter. Give yourself a break. You were starving yourself to death." Harry felt the need to spit on the ground. Filthy death eater. Who did he think he was, storming into his house like that and calling names like that?!

"Go back to your cooking. I don't want another one of your rants, to be honest." Harry got up to take the bottle of Firewhisky out of the refrigerator. Malfoy observed him, one eye still the stove.

"You'll have to stop drinking, Potter. You're going to fade away if you don't." This only increased Harry's temper.

"Who are you to tell me what I'm allowed to do or not to! I saved your guts so get off my back," Harry snapped. He was getting sick of Malfoy meddling into everything. He didn't _want _to get better. He didn't want to cope. Because deep down inside he was afraid he would forget his best friends, if he learned to live with their loss. He sat back down on his chair again and filled a glass to the brim.

"You nearly killed me once too, so the one makes up for the other." Malfoy added the chive to the beef. He got the baked potatoes out of the oven and set the table with a swing of his wand. For a moment, the image of the bathroom, water and blood was burned on Harry's retina. Then he snapped out of it.

"Whatever Malfoy, you're not my father. You can't tell me what to do," Harry bit. The first drink of firewhisky burned his gorge, and he quickly took another, trying to suppress his anger.

"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just trying to give you some advice. But if you're going to be stubborn, I'll _force_ you to stop." Malfoy turned out the stove and looked at Harry. His silver eyes were defiant.

"Try me," Harry hissed. Malfoy jumped forward, grabbing the glass of Firwhisky. Harry lost grip of it while the content was spilled over both of them. Harry's chair bent over, flipping to the side and making Harry fall off. Malfoy stood up straighter, a victorious smile on around his lips. Harry grabbed the chair and threw it at his housemate, nearly hitting him in the face. Malfoy jumped back just in time. This only infuriated Harry more. Who did Malfoy think he was?

"I'll get you for this, Malfoy. You're in my house. You're going to pay."

"What are you going to do? Kick me out? You can't, because you made a promise. Gryffindors can't break their promises, can they?"

"When it involves an arrogant Slytherin they can," Harry growled. He stepped forward, pushing Malfoy against the counter. Harry saw how Malfoy swallowed, the Adams apple going up and down once. He was standing so close to the man, he could breathe his scent. "What were you saying, ferretface?" Harry whispered, loud enough for Malfoy to hear.

"You're more messed up than I thought," Malfoy responded, disappointment clearly audible. The sound of it made Harry freeze in his movement. Malfoy's eyes stared into Harry's emerald ones as he continued: "You know, you used to start fights for sensible reasons. Like defending your friends at Hogwarts. But now, you're fighting for alcohol. That's below your level, Potter. Far below." With those words, Malfoy stepped around Harry, and left the room.

Harry leaned against the counter, repeating the words in his head. Tears were forming in his eyes, because he knew it was true. Back at Hogwarts, he was a much better person.

Right now, he was a drunk. And a nobody. Why was he even trying to compete against the former Death Eater? The blonde had done so much better than him. Nobody was expecting anything from him, and now he was exceeding all expectations, by helping Harry out. Harry of all people. Okay, admitted, Malfoy was stuck in a crappy situation himself, but he'd done great so far.

Harry had just let everyone down. He'd even let himself down. Harry sank down, hugging his legs and burying his face. Hot tears wetted the fabric of his pants. Soft, irregular sobs were the only thing interrupting the silence.

Then out of the blue, an arm was wrapped around his waist. The same strong arm that was wrapped around his chest the other time. He recognized the slender fingers, the composition of the muscles, but refused to look.

"Go away," Harry hiccupped. The hand felt warm around his body, but was pulled away upon Harry's order. Harry wanted to sigh, not really sure if he really wanted Malfoy to go away. Harry was just about to look up to see if Malfoy had really gone, when his voice broke the silence.

"I didn't mean to be so rude, Potter. I'm sorry," Malfoy whispered. Harry kept facing his knees, not wanting Malfoy to see his puffy face. This wasn't happening. Harry didn't know what to do. Merlin, why was Malfoy acting like this?

"You were right. You don't have to apologize." His voice was shaky and cracked in the middle of his sentence. On top of that, it was muffled by his trousers, still preventing Malfoy from seeing his face.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Malfoy said. Harry frowned. Why was Malfoy being so nice all of a sudden? Harry had been calling him names, even though the blonde was making him something nice to eat. And now he came apologizing?

"Why are you doing this?" Harry looked up at Malfoy, green meeting silver. Malfoy's eyes weren't mocking. They were compassionate. Understanding. Two things he'd never though Malfoy could express. But why were these emotions there? He should be laughing his ass off because Harry was weeping like a crybaby.

"Doing what?" His silver eyes locked to his, his gaze never leaving him. Harry avoided his stare, unable to cope with the intense glance.

"Being nice."

"Someone has to take the first step. We're not sixteen anymore, Potter. We're grown-ups now." Harry observed the man, taking in what he was saying.

"I'm not grown up, Malfoy. I stopped living when I killed Voldemort. Technically, I'm still sixteen."

"You didn't stop living, Potter. You're still alive. You need to wake up and make the best of it."

"The best of what? This?" Harry scoffed, looking around the room while pulling an eyebrow. "There's nothing good about this. I'm alone." Harry shrugged, tears forming in his eyes again. He couldn't control his emotion, and it was starting to annoy him. Harry wished the Earth would swallow him up.

"You're not anymore. I'm here." Malfoy sat down next to him, pulling his long legs up as well. Harry eyed him cautiously, still not sure whether to believe the blonde or not.

"But you can't wait to get out of here! The only reason you're staying is because the Death Eaters will catch you otherwise."

"That's not the only reason Potter. I can use the company as well."

"My company? You despise me," Harry snorted.

"Says who?"

"You! You always say you hate me." Why was Malfoy pretending he knew nothing? Why was he making this so difficult?

"I could say the same about you."

"We're not friends, Malfoy. Why would we try to fool ourselves?"

"Stop thinking in black and white, Potter. You of all people should know the world isn't black and white. We can be friends, even though we used to be enemies. Everything has changed since the war ended." Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, stubbornly.

"I hate it. I want everything to be back like the way it was before. You're confusing me. I've wanted you to be like this for a long time at Hogwarts. Friendly. You never were. And now that I gave up on everything, you're going to be friendly?"

"You didn't give up, Potter. You're still here."

"I'm only a ghost of who I used to be. You were the one who told me that."

"But you're still here. Stop thinking it over. Get your life back on track." Malfoy stretched out his arm to touch Harry's, but changed his mind as he saw Harry tense. He scratched the back of his head and dropped his hand in his lap.

"And do what? Prepare for another fight with a new Dark Lord? I don't have a purpose anymore. I can't get my life back on track."

"What do you expect me to do? Find another Dark Lord to vow eternal loyalty to?"

"That'd be crazy," Harry said, smiling. It had been so long since Harry had been able to smile genuinely, and as soon as he realized it, he stopped smiling. The gesture faded, but it had left a sparkling feeling around the corners of his mouth, and a hot gleam in his chest.

* * *

Draco returned Potter's smile, happy he could finally see the charming gesture crossing Potters face. Dried-up tears left marks on his cheeks and his green eyes were red and puffy. Draco had never seen Potter cry before. It was a beautiful, yet tragic thing to watch. Potter sniveled every now and then, a small hiccup escaping his mouth when he did.

It should be illegal for him to cry. The beauty of it all made Draco's heart swell up, and he just wanted to engulf the man in a strong embrace.

"I think I could live with that, you know," Draco spoke.

"With what? Finding another Dark Lord? You're more fucked up than I am," Potter replied. His green eyes looked at him patiently waiting for him to reply.

"With us being friends."

"I don't think so, Malfoy." Potter shook his head, looking away again.

"What do you want me to do? I already do your cooking, your laundry, I clean!" Draco exclaimed, faking the frustration. Potter didn't seem to notice.

"You know what? You're right. Things need to change around here. I'm going to contribute to this household." The Survivor gave a curt nod, convincing himself it was the right thing to do.

"Now you sound like an old married husband," Draco chuckled. Potter looked up at him, returning the smile.

"You're difficult to please, Malfoy."

"Look who's talking." Both men fell silent. Draco observed the raven-haired man sitting next to him, remembering the first time he'd ever seen him. To be honest, he'd expected the Boy Who Lived to be special. Upon seeing Potter, so casual and normal, he'd been taken aback. However, now that he knew Potter, he knew he wasn't just normal. His courage and strength surprised him every single time. It was so sad seeing him so low, when he'd been so high once.

"You're worth your weight in gold, Potter." Draco whispered. He knew Potter wouldn't appreciate his compliments, but it felt like the right time to make them.

"It's a pity I don't weigh much anymore."

"Don't ruin it."

"Sorry. You're not so bad yourself, Malfoy. And I'm sorry for nearly killing you."

"Better late than never."

"Hey! I did apologize! Or at least I tried. Besides, I saved your life afterwards, you told me the one makes up for the other, so drop it."

"You're the one who started it," Draco bickered.

"You've got a point. Would you mind finishing dinner? It smells delicious."

"Sure." Draco got up, stretched out his arm to help Potter up and went back to cooking. It looked as if he had finally breached through those walls. For the first time in the two weeks he'd been here, he'd seen the old Potter come out of his shell. It was great. Just great.

**To be continued…**

**Please review! (I'll keep adding it!-)**


	4. Chapter 4: A boy's Night

**This is the next bit! The story is developing, and I hope you guys like it. I appreciate the tiny amount of reviews I got, although I hope there are more to come. You probably just think, 'what's with all their asking for reviews' but when you write, it's lovely to have someone saying something about it… I just love reading them – and I'm not getting any… :'(**

**However, no reason to be unhappy anymore! Embrace the Drarry love and enjoy the next part **

Chapter 4  
A boy's night

A bare footed Harry walked over to Malfoy's bedroom, knocking on the door shortly. The hallway was dim, only a few candles were on. The knock sounded loud in the quiet house. There was no reply. He hesitated, knocking once more before turning around again. He was about to leave when he changed his mind and softly opened the door.

Draco Malfoy was soundly asleep, covered in blankets and pillows. His chest rose and fell steadily, slightly moving the covers up and down. Harry tiptoed over to him, nudging his arm gently. His usually neat blonde hair was messed up from being in bed and Harry couldn't help but smile. He never even imagined Malfoy's hair _could _be messy. The grin remained on his face as Malfoy wrinkled his nose and turned around. The blonde buried his nose in his pillow, making Harry chuckle out loud.

"Malfoy. Malfoy," Harry called softly. He didn't really want to wake the man, but he didn't feel like going alone either. It was only six in the morning. Malfoy's blonde eyebrows formed a line, as he gradually became awake.

"W-what? Potter? Is something wrong?" Malfoy shot up throwing the covers off, revealing night blue silk pajamas and eyeing Harry with concern.

"I'm fine. I was just wondering if you felt like going for a run," Harry shrugged. Now that Malfoy was eyeing him as if he just said he was going to travel around the world in a bathtub, he felt guilty for waking him.

"For a run? Why?" Malfoy looked up at Harry with a sleepy gaze, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. His blonde eyelashes touched the skin under his eyes, and the man suppressed a yawn.

"I feel like exercising a little. To get in shape again," Harry explained. He was already wearing the right outfit and danced from one foot to the other, because the ground was cold underneath his feet. Why hadn't he put on shoes already?

"Good. Why do you have to wake me for that?" Harry quirked an eyebrow, not really understanding Malfoy's question.

"Because you were still asleep."

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't you wait?" Malfoy replied grumpily, turning around in the covers again.

"No. Everyone runs in the morning. It's six o'clock," Harry urged. He hadn't done this before. He'd been very excited about it, but now that Malfoy was being a buzz kill, he had second thoughts.

"They run in the morning because they have to be at work at ten o'clock. You're such a moron." Malfoy rolled his eyes and started to get out of his bed.

"Calm down, nasty ferret. I was just asking. If you don't feel like it, just get back in bed," Harry snapped. He didn't expect Malfoy to be so catty in the morning. It was just an idea. Harry knew it was an improvement to getting drunk on the couch and had expected a little more recognition for that, but well. If Malfoy didn't feel like it, he would go alone. He turned around, starting to make his way to the door.

"No, no. It's fine. I'll be there in a bit." Malfoy said before Harry could escape through the door. He nodded once and went downstairs to wait in the hallway. He'd put on a comfortable black jogging suit and stretched his arms while waiting. It took the blonde long, but he finally made it downstairs at about a quarter to seven. Malfoy descended the stairs, wearing a tight white T-shirt combined with a striped good fitting pair of shorts. The fabric fit his thighs perfectly, revealing long, muscular legs. The blonde hair on his legs was visible in the early morning sun.

"I had to grab one of your shorts because I don't have anything suitable for running," Malfoy said. Harry finally met his eyes, - a clear shade of grey - and nodded.

"I already figured you wouldn't wear shorts voluntarily," Harry smiled, opening the front door while talking. Malfoy shot him a death glare, but it didn't have the wanted effect on him. "You shouldn't be surprised you can't go running with your pants. They so tight it's unclear to me why you would even wear them. It seems very uncomfortable."

"They're not uncomfortable. They're classy," Malfoy sulked. They exited and started jogging around the block.

"You're not really a morning person, are you?" Harry was enjoying the conversation, trying to get on Malfoy's nerves. When he looked down, he saw two pairs of pale, muscular legs jogging beside him, the muscles in his upper legs contracted every time he took a step.

"No. I'm not. And you're a lunatic."

"Can't help it," Harry laughed goofily.

"So, what are you planning on doing today, apart from running?" Malfoy asked. Harry thought about it for a while, then shrugged.

"I don't know. Hang around, probably." Harry had difficulty keeping his breathing under control, but he tried to keep up with Malfoy.

"Don't you ever get tired of doing nothing?" Malfoy's voice was still calm, no signs of tiredness showing through.

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry questioned.

"There are tons of things you could do."

"Yeah? Like what? What do you want to do?" They turned around the corner, exiting Grimmauld Place and making their way to the Battishill Street Gardens.

"I'll probably read another one of your books. I love Potions. When my name gets cleared, I want to study Potion making and develop all kinds of new Potions. And existing Potions, of course, to supply pharmacy's." Harry eyed Malfoy as he spoke, his pink lips were dark because of the exercise.

"I didn't know you had it figured out like that." Harry looked down, feeling sad all of a sudden.

"I do. You should too. Give it some thought." Malfoy's eyes were compassionate, and Harry smiled softly before replying.

"I will," Harry huffed, losing his breath.

"You not in shape anymore, are you?" Malfoy teased.

"Shut up. It's your fault. Why are you so talkative all of a sudden?" The more he talked, the more his breathing became irregular.

"Just admit you're out of condition, Potter." Harry just kept running until they reached the small park, then stopped, leaning on his knees while catching his breath.

"I thought I said, 'go jogging'. You're like sprinting all the way." Harry took deep gulps of breath into his lungs, trying to stop his sides from aching.

"You said, 'go running'. I'm just running Potter. Seems you have something to work on today."

"Look at you, so happy all of a sudden. You weren't so jolly when I snatched you out of your dream, were you?" Harry fired back.

"Come on, we've rested enough. Let's get going." They started running again, and Harry got sunken in his thoughts. He'd never given a thought about what he would do after he killed Voldemort. It had always been a vague image in his head, either having kids with Ginny, or something involving the Weasleys. Now it _was _after Voldemort's time, but it still felt like something was withholding him. As if he wasn't allowed to live his life. What should he live for? Ginny wasn't there anymore. Besides, Harry wasn't in love with the woman anymore either. Harry didn't want to bother the Weasleys, and that left him with no one else.

Until now. Malfoy was the first person to trigger the feeling of wanting to do something with his life. He was the first person to make him laugh. The first person he did stuff with since the War. All Harry had known until now was grief. An intense sadness that had made his soul cold. Malfoy made a difference. Harry remembered when the former Slytherin had embraced him. Hands wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Malfoy warmed him up inside, awakening Harry's lust for life.

They reached the Grimmauld Place again, and Harry smiled before entering. He would show Malfoy he was still alive.

* * *

Draco took off his hood when he entered the Grimmauld place. It was annoying that Potter had disconnected his chimney off the network. He'd explained that he didn't want anyone to barge in just like that, but that meant that Draco had to go outside, to a quiet place before he could disapparate. He made his way to the living room. Potter was nowhere to be seen.

The odor of burned food prickled his nose trills, and he frowned in displease. For Salazar's sake, what was Potter doing? Draco made his way to the kitchen, to witness how a red and sweaty Potter was trying to save the food he'd just extinguished with his wand.

"What are you doing?" Draco questioned. Potter nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Draco, a sheepish grin creeping up his face. The red glow around his neck gave away his embarrassment.

"I'm trying to make you something to eat. For a change." Potter sounded as flustered as he looked.

"Great. Well, I won't keep you from your work," Draco replied. He couldn't bring the man down, not now that he was trying so hard. The Potter from last week wouldn't even have cared about eating at all, let alone prepare something for someone else. Even though Draco dreaded taking a bite from what looked like a black steak, he would do it anyway. To please Potter.

Draco set the table while Potter was struggling to keep the ingredients edible. Since Draco arrived here, Potter had gained some weight. He hadn't had a drink over the last seven days, and they'd gone out running a few times. Potter was regaining his Quidditch body, which didn't go unnoticed for the blonde. Draco could see the curve between his shoulder muscles while the Golden Boy was cooking.

When Potter finally managed to get everything on the kitchen table, both men sat down on opposite sides. Potter's black hair was a mess, pointing in every direction.

"Bon appétit," Draco said. Potter returned the smile. Draco could tell he was waiting for Draco to take a bite from it. He first tried some boiled potatoes and steamed carrots. Even though they tasted a bit bland, it wasn't that bad at all. The steak… Well, after scraping the burned parts off, it was good to go.

"What do you say?" Potter asked, looking like a four-year-old who'd just given an ugly painting to his parents. Draco really didn't want to run him down, so he looked for the right words before answering.

"It's okay. Practice makes perfect. It was a nice surprise having you cook."

"I told you I would. I've been watching cooking programs on the television all week." Potter took it really well.

"The Muggle device... Can it teach you how to cook?" Draco frowned, leaving the steak for what it was. Potter just ate everything on his plate, probably without even tasting what it was. He rolled his eyes at Draco's question.

"No, it can't. You're even worse than Ron when it comes to this-" The mention of his dead best friend made him pause for a while, but then he recomposed. "It's a machine for watching programs. Actors are filmed, for example while preparing a meal, and then afterwards they broadcast it on the television." Draco frowned, trying to grasp what Potter was saying.

"Muggles are so weird. Why not just take cooking lessons? Or hire someone."

"Some people just love to watch how someone cooks. Besides, it's not the only program showing. There are loads. Different ones. You should give it a try, I'm sure you'll find something you like."

"Yeah right. And then I'm going to grow a beard. I don't think so. I'm not touching that thing. Have you thought about what you're going to do for a living yet? Your fortune isn't going to last forever. You might as well start looking for something."

"I've been thinking about it. I've always loved Quidditch. But I'm not really sure if I want to join a team. I don't think I'll be good enough." Potter kept taking bites from his plate, while Draco just shoved the potatoes and carrots around, not wanting to touch the steak again.

"Yeah right. You've got too many complexions, Potter. What about your art? It's great, you know. You should do something with it."

"Like what? It's just a hobby. It's a way of… dealing with what happened."

"I understand, but it's beautiful. It would be a pity not to share it with the world." Draco observed the green-eyed man, admiring his strength. He knew for sure if he'd had two best friends like Weasel and Granger, he'd be down in the dumps for years. Let alone killing someone as strong as the Dark Lord.

"The world can kiss my ass," Potter huffed.

"That's very Gryffindor-like," Draco teased. "Just kidding. I mean, think about it. You never know what the future brings."

"That's an understatement. If I had known that evening that you would show up here, I wouldn't have opened the door."

"How nice of you," Draco sneered, an angry pout crossing his features. Then it disappeared, and both men laughed. It was peculiar, but at the same time very comfortable to be able to talk to Potter like this. At last, the man was opening up, and Draco was amazed by the personality still present underneath it.

* * *

Harry was sitting next to Malfoy on the couch. They shared a bowl of pop corn while watching the television. Harry had picked a romantic movie, to introduce Malfoy to what Muggles called a 'film'. He'd chosen the classic 'The notebook'. There was no way he wouldn't like it.

"I don't get it, Potter. Why do they keep switching to the old couple? What do they have to do with their stupid romance. They should both admit they love each other, end of story. It's annoying."

"It wouldn't be a good movie if they hooked up straight away. You'll find out what the old couple has to do with them. You can't expect to know everything, the end will show you."

"I don't like it. Besides, it's so stereotype. I don't want to watch boy-girl love. I'm gay." Harry tore his gaze off the screen and looked at Malfoy, shocked.

"You're what?!"

"I'm gay. I fancy boys," Malfoy replied. He didn't even flinch. Harry just gaped at him, trying to decide whether he was making a joke or not. Malfoy met Harry's eyes for a second, then went back to watching the movie.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Harry didn't know why he was making a big deal out of it. That's not something you expect to hear from someone you share your home with. Malfoy gay? How was it possible?

"Yes. I used to date Oliver Wood in Hogwarts. But we split up because he graduated. We couldn't see each other often." Harry felt his stomach turn. Oliver Wood. The tall, brown-haired guy who taught him how to play Quidditch? Who'd been the Waiter of their Gryffindor Team for years? He'd always looked up to the man.

"Oliver? Seriously? I can't scarcely believe what I am hearing. He was _gay?"_

"You say it as if it is a bad thing. You can't pick who you fall in love with, Potter." At this Harry frowned again.

"But - women fall in love with men, and vice versa." That was the way it was supposed to be. Harry had always know homosexual people existed, but he'd never given it any thought.

"Now you sound like a three-year-old. There are always exceptions, moron." Harry just stared at Malfoy. How could he not have seen this man was gay? Honestly, it hadn't even crossed Harry's mind.

He was handsome. Even though being a Slytherin, Malfoy got a lot of the ladies' attention when growing up. Harry could see what the girls liked about him. He had a certain elegance in doing everything. The way his pink lips formed words, the way he turned up his nose when he didn't like something, the way he walked – even the way he slept. Harry shook his head, recalling the messy hair on the pillow. Gay?

"You're unbelievable. I mean-"

"Please, Potter. Drop it already. I shouldn't have told you," Malfoy turned away unhappily, staring in the distance. Harry looked at him for a while, feeling sorry for taking it so far. Why did it matter anyway?

"It's fine. I'm just not good with this. I'm not good at anything concerning that stuff. I used to date Ginny before the War. Most of the time, I just felt awkward. I didn't know what to say or do anymore. As long as we're friends, it's fine, but from the moment we're lovers, I get weird." Malfoy turned around while Harry spoke, understanding in his eyes. It looked a bit weird coming from Malfoy, nevertheless it soothed Harry. He'd always felt like a square peg in a round hole when it came to girls.

"That's not your fault. You just don't have any experience. If you feel very strange about dating someone, it's because you're not into them. Trust me. I dated girls because I wanted to prove to myself I was normal like everyone else. It was awkward." Harry nodded in acceptance, feeling great for being able to talk about girls with someone. Gradually, it downed on harry, eyes widening as he realized what Malfoy was referring to.

"Are you insinuating I'm gay?!" Harry exclaimed.

"No. I mean – you could be-"

"WHAT?! Get the hell out of here! I'm NOT gay, Malfoy. Merlin's beard, have you lost your mind?"

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just saying you fall in love with a _person _not a _gender. _Of course, the traditional way is a man with a woman, but that's only to make kids. To love and cherish someone, you don't need to be heterosexual."

"Man, I'm going to be sick." Harry turned away, faking a gagging throat. How did the bloody ferret _dare _to think of him as a gay person. He couldn't even deal with girls, let alone with guys!

"Shut your whining, Potter. Or I'll take you right here, right now on the couch." Harry's eyes shot back, glowering into grey puddles.

"What?! Don't you dare touch me, Malfoy. I'll curse you so badly that your cock falls off." Harry turned off the television and shot another threatening glance in Malfoy's direction. The room was dim, but Harry could see his eyes shine silver, looking back at him.

"You would?" Malfoy grinned. Harry was confused for a second, not really sure why Malfoy thought this was funny. He actually meant it – at least, the cursing part, not amputating his cock – anyway, Malfoy was looking at him, an amused glint in his grey gaze.

"I would," Harry confirmed. Malfoy scooted a bit closer, which made Harry all the more nervous. What was the man trying to do? Was he just teasing him, or did he actually mean it? Malfoy placed his hand on Harry's knee. His hands were warm, and Harry flinched under the touch. He looked at the slender fingers, curled around his knee, unable to move. The moment lasted various seconds. Then Malfoy withdrew his hand.

"I touched you. You didn't really curse me."

"I- er…" Harry could still feel the spot where Malfoy's hand had touched him, feeling the warmth making its way up his leg to the centre of his body. Harry was embarrassed, trying to put his legs up and wished he hadn't turned out the telly. Malfoy scooted closer again, sitting right next to him. Harry turned his face away, feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks.

Malfoys hands reached his chin, turning him around again. "I'm still touching you," he whispered. His voice was tender, falling on Harry's skin like a soft summer breeze. Harry's eyes locked with silver, finding it impossible to look away. Malfoy's hand was on Harry's leg again, pulling it down so he could lean in closer. Harry's heart was pounding against his chest, nerves consuming his entire being.

Their lips touched, soft and innocent. Instantly, Harry's nervousness disappeared, making room for inner peace. Malfoy's lips tasted sweet on his and Harry leaned forward, wanting more. Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm gently, and wrapped it around his waist. Harry pulled him closer, completely obvious to everything happening around him. In this tiny moment, all Harry could think about was the kiss.

Then it was over. Malfoy looked at him, a small smile crossing his face. "Thanks," he whispered. Harry frowned. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He and Malfoy had just shared a kiss. It had been over eight months since he'd been kissed. It felt good, but confusing at the same time.

Malfoy looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. Harry was paralyzed, not knowing what to do. How had this happened? Was this some kind of sick joke?

He got up and walked out of the living room, running up the stairs. He made it into his bedroom, plopping down on his bed. Tears started streaming, but Harry didn't know why. It had been good, Merlin, better than just good. Perfect. Overwhelming. had touched Harry somewhere no one had touched him before- resembling the hug they shared a few weeks ago. It scared him. Single drops of tears followed one another, while Harry tried to get a grip on his emotion. He couldn't deal with the amount of emotions circulating through his body. He feared Malfoy was just playing a game. Why had he done that? He knew Harry was uncertain about this stuff.

Harry hugged his legs to his chest, unable to find the answer. After all he'd been through he should have been able to handle a small kiss. Nevertheless, here he was crying his eyes out like a baby. It would have been more comprehensible when Malfoy had cursed him or beat the shit out of him. But no. He was crying over a kiss.

A kiss with Malfoy.

* * *

Draco sat back in the couch. His thoughts were flooding his brain, trying to grasp what just had happened. He breathed in softly, his lips were parted. He lifted up his hand to touch his lower lip, still tingling from what had just happened. He hadn't intended to kiss Potter. He'd expected the man to retreat, to crawl back and run like a scared chicken. But no. Potter had kissed him back.

He once had fantasized about kissing Potter, back in Hogwarts. Never would he have been prepared for this. It was perfect in every way, except for the man running away afterwards. He would have to apologize. Potter probably thought he was just trying to tease him, but Draco had been moved by the kiss.

When his heart slowed down and his thoughts settled, Draco decided he needed to go see Potter. He marched up the stairs slowly and knocked on Potters door once. He didn't know what to expect. Would Potter be angry with him? Would he try to curse him. Or would he kiss him again? He felt a tug around his navel when he thought about kissing Potter again, then realized he didn't get a reply. He knocked again, twice this time.

"What?" Potter sounded as if he was crying.

"Can I come in?" Draco tried softly.

"No!" Draco pulled the door-latch anyway, and it opened slowly. The blonde needed to suppress a chuckle, thinking of how Potter could have easily locked the door, either with a key or a spell, but he hadn't. Draco stepped in cautiously, not sure how the raven-haired man would react to his intruder. He saw the Boy Who Lived lying on his bed, curled up in a ball. Immediately, Draco felt sorry for kissing him. If he had known it would hurt him like that, he wouldn't have done it. A strong pinch made Draco's stomach turn. Why would a tender gesture like a kiss hurt someone?

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered.

"For what?!" Potter shouted. However, it came out muffled because he was hiding his head in his pillow.

"For kissing you. I didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted to, …"

"What?! Make a fool out of me? Well, you did, so be happy about it!" That wasn't exactly the reaction Draco had been hoping for. Not after a passionate kiss anyway.

"No. I didn't know what happened either, Potter. If you think I'm good at this stuff you're wrong. But I'm trying. I just thought you'd pull away to be honest. But you didn't. And the worst thing is, I liked it." Potter remained quiet for a while, then lifted his head. His eyes were red from crying, red marks tracing their way down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Draco whispered. What had he expected? Potter was disoriented when he got here. Kissing him wasn't the best move he'd ever made. "I just – maybe we should forget about it. Okay? Just remember that I didn't want to embarrass you or anything."

Potter nodded. With a dreadful feeling in his stomach, Draco turned around and left the room again. Everything he'd managed to achieve was lost again. The worst part about it all was that even though he asked Potter to forget about it, he couldn't. Those lips were burned on his forever.

**To be continued…  
Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Privacy

**Hihi! I know, I know. The update is rather late. Luckily, it's still noon in America, so for all those who are from those regions, I'm right on time :) **

**Seriously, I'm not getting much response for the story, and I'm kinda stuck in it as well. It'll get better, so don't worry, but for now, I'm really pissed. :S Chapter eight should've been finished and it's not. I've been crocheting too much. I'm bad…**

**Apart from that, Chapter 5 is up, in all his glory. I really, really hope you guys like where this is going, not matter how few people read it ^-^**

**Enjoy 3**

Chapter 5  
Privacy

When Harry woke up, he didn't know why he'd been feeling so bad the other day. His morning brain had forgotten the details about yesterday's occurrings, but his memories were gradually trickling back into his head.

Malfoy.

Harry sighed. He would be willing to forget about the kiss they shared, but he knew he couldn't forget it, even if he wanted to. If Hermione was still alive, he could have asked her to make him forget – she was good in that spell – but she wasn't. The thought of Hermione filled his heart with sorrow. Not that she would have done it anyway.

Harry stepped out of his bed and made his way downstairs. He still had his clothes on from yesterday, but would take a shower later. He walked into the kitchen as he was thinking of what he would do today. Malfoy had asked him to start looking for a job that suited him, but after yesterday, he didn't feel like it. The only thing he wanted to do right now was draw.

Harry made tea and took a cracker before sitting down on his side of the table. Malfoy wasn't downstairs yet. It wasn't like Malfoy to sleep long. He could be in the library as well –in reality it was a bedroom that Harry transfigured into a small library. Just as the thought settled in his mind, he heard footsteps down the stairs. Harry got up again to make another cup of tea.

"Morning," Malfoy greeted, before sitting down. Harry placed the cup in front of him and conjured toast and butter for the blonde. "Thanks."

Harry sat down again, trying to focus on his crackers. It was very difficult, given the fact that a messy haired, sleepy Malfoy was sitting in front of him only wearing a pair of pajama pants. Why hadn't he put on the vest? "You're welcome," was all Harry could manage to say, captivated by Malfoys exposed body.

They ate in silence. Harry couldn't find a subject to start about, and didn't feel like breaking the rather comfortable silence. He looked up at the pale chest every once in a while, tracing the lines of his chest muscles, while chewing his crackers. The pink nipples were hard because of the chilliness in the room. That reminded Harry he hadn't put on the fireplace just yet and got up to do so. He could have just done it from his seat, but was to escape the kitchen for a while, because the sight of a half naked Malfoy made butterflies flutter in his belly. In most cases, that would be a good thing, but in Harry's case, that only made matters worse. Confusion, mixed with frustration made his head spin.

Upon entering the living room, Harry passed the sofa to make a fire. Instantly, he remembered sitting there with Malfoy the other day, watching the Notebook and then _kissing_ him. For a moment, it had been as if he was starring in his own movie, but then the confusion had pulled him out of his reverie and reality had struck like lightening. Even though it had felt like it, it wasn't his soul mate he had been kissing. It was a man. Not just an ordinary man, a Death Eater. Draco Malfoy.

Harry lit the fireplace, the warmth feeling rather unwelcome by the cold thought. Malfoy hadn't meant what he'd done_. "I just – maybe we should forget about it. Okay_?" Harry shook his head and walked back to the kitchen. He sat back down again, nibbling some more on his cracker.

"So, what are you up to, today?" Malfoy asked. He reached over the table to grab the jelly, revealing a small bush of blonde hair under his armpit. Harry nearly chocked in the cracker, but quickly recovered.

"Don't know. I'll start with running around the block, I guess." He tried to sound as if the nudity of the man sitting in front of him didn't affect him at all, but in fact he was getting more and more difficulty to compose a normal sentence. Adding up the fact that the man's lips had been on his about ten hours ago, only chaos remained.

"If you feel like exercising, why don't you go flying? You don't like running." Malfoy's soft pink lips formed the words, before taking a bite from the toast spread with butter and jelly. The fact that Malfoy avoided their kiss so cautiously unleashed the angriness inside of Harry, but he tried to contain it. If Malfoy wanted to forget, he would as well. Try, that is.

"Well, I'll think about it. What are you gonna do?"

"I'll probably read some more of your books. I need to go out as well, to see what it's like out there. I want to know if my mother has gotten a hearing yet. You know." Malfoy's Adam's apple moved, swallowing thickly, sadness covering his silver eyes.

"Sure." The thought of Narcissi sitting in the dull, circular room made Harry want to throw up. Being surrounded by all those people from the Ministry, wearing their stupid hats, made Harry think about how nervous he had been in his fifth year. Professor Dumbledore had hardly looked at him. Harry feared he had disappointed the man, but it wasn't like that. Voldemort had been taking over his mind.

A sharp pain suddenly stabbed his chest, taking Harry's breath away. He gasped for air, wrapping his arm around his chest to make the pain go away.

"Potter! Are you okay?" As quick as a flash, Malfoy was stood next to him and tried to comfort him. Harry pushed him away, the pain slowly fading, but leaving a mark to remind Harry it had been there. "What happened?" Harry was bent over, facing Malfoy's small belly, a thin stripe of blonde hair making its way up to his belly button.

"I don't know," Harry replied, still trying to catch his breath. Regardless of how disturbing the pain had been, it was gone again. "Nothing, I guess." Harry sat up straight, facing Malfoy again.

"You'd better not go flying, Potter." Concern was written all over Malfoy's face, placing a hand in his side. The angriness from before returned with renewed energy, blazing through his veins like a hell-fire.

"You're not my mother, Malfoy. You can't tell me what to do. I told you I was FINE!" Harry snapped, anger pulsing through his veins. Malfoy took a step back, not understanding his fierce reaction, but didn't get the change to reply, as Harry got up from the chair and went upstairs, leaving a baffled Malfoy.

Who in the Whole Wizard World did he think he was? Harry had let him in because _he _didn't have anywhere else to go, not to be taken care of! The boiling rage made the rest of the pain disappear, while he retreated in his room. He would wait for Malfoy to go out before flying a few lapses. He sat down at his desk, trying to calm himself down and sighed. The sudden anger disappeared and his breathing became regular again. Harry knew he shouldn't have been so angry for a vapidity, but he hadn't been able to restrain himself. The confusion, the anger, the sharp pain and Malfoy's concern had triggered a hurricane in Harry's body.

Harry sighed again, his body starting to fill with relief. He got out a pencil and started drawing, to get his mind off of things.

Off of Malfoy.

* * *

Draco got back to Grimmauld Place and first went up to Potters room to see if he was there. He'd bought a Daily Prophet, but there wasn't anything featured on his mother. The Ministry was hearing other Death Eaters first, who'd been captured long before Narcissa and were waiting for a number of months. It was a soothing emotion, knowing the woman would still be at peace for now, but either way, Draco was scared for her. Was she at Azkaban right now?

Draco shook his head, trying to stop his mind from going there and knocked on Potters door. "Potter, are you in here?" No reply. Draco stepped into the room. The man wasn't there, but his clothes were lying on his bed. Draco walked over to the bed, realizing Potter was probably out flying.

He'd asked him not to, but knowing Potter, he didn't like to stick to the rules very much. Draco was just about to step out of the room again when he saw a piece of paper, lying on Potter's desk. The paper had been drawn on, but the top was facing the desk, so Draco couldn't see what it was. He walked over to it, hesitating at first. The last time he'd taken a peek at one of his drawings, Potter had been out of his wits. Nevertheless, he turned it around and faced … himself.

_Huh_? Potter had drawn him? Why? A smile appeared on his face, feeling honored to be part of Potter's beautiful work. The picture hadn't been adapted by a potion yet, so it didn't move. Draco's smile was glued to his face. Potter should do something with his talent. He could teach other people how to do it. Maybe they could even create an Arts class in Hogwarts.

Draco smile brightened at the idea. It was actually not a bad idea at all. He turned the paper around again and left the room, preparing to suggest the idea to Potter. Just when he got downstairs, the front door opened, and a Potter dressed in Quidditch-gear entered. He had the cloak of Invisibility in his left hand, the Firebolt in his right.

"There you are. Everything okay?"

"Yes, Malfoy. I didn't die. Not yet." The sarcasm dripped from Potter's voice, but Draco just shrugged.

"I'm just making sure you didn't have another seizure."

"It wasn't a seizure. It was just a sudden sharp pain. I had already forgotten about it, so should you." Draco observed the raven-haired man get angry, a small smile appearing around the corner of his mouth. Potter's red lips moved so fast, Draco wanted to kiss him again, to make him stop talking. That would only scare the man away, so he ignored the desire.

"Alright, alright. I'll make us something to eat." Draco started walking to the kitchen, Potter following suit.

"Good. I'm starving." As Draco unpacked the groceries while Potter undid his Quidditch clothing. Draco froze in his movement, a box of chocolates in his hand when Potter pulled the Quidditch robe over his head, revealing his muscular torso. Because exercising was the only thing on Potter's to-do-list right now, his body was gaining a lot of muscles. Draco felt how his abdomen contracted, a pleasurable wave passing through. Potter stopped undressing, shooting Draco a questioning look.

"What are you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing. I'll put these in the cupboard," Draco replied, waving the chocolates absent-mindedly. Potter shook his head in disbelief and started to fold his robe.

"There's no need to fold it, Potter. I'll wash it before you put it in the closet again." Draco left the grocery bag for what it was and walked over to the table, on which Potter had thrown his gear.

"I only wore it once," Potter retorted.

"Yes, you did. And it's got sweat all over it. You dirty little guy." Draco took the robe, his hand nudging Potter's slightly. The small touch sent shivers down Draco's spine and quickly spun around, heading for the utility room. He could still feel the spot where Potter's warm hand had touched the back of his hand.

After closing the door behind him, Draco could no longer resist the urgent feeling and buried his nose in the black and red striped robe. Potter's scent tickled his senses, sparks flying all around his body. He remained frozen for a while, until he realized Potter would be waiting for him to make dinner. He left the robe for what it was and went back into the kitchen.

"So. What do we eat?" Potter was sitting at the kitchen table, a black T-shirt covering his upper body. A tiny hint of disappointment passed through Draco's belly, but he quickly recovered, opening a cupboard before replying.

"I'm making rice with curry." He grabbed the box of rice and a bowl of curry sauce before walking to the fridge.

"And chicken?"

"Yes. And chicken." Potter nodded happily, looking like a kid who had just been offered a lollypop. Potter had a way of resembling a kid very often, and Draco suppressed a giggle. Instead, Draco rolled his eyes in reply, knowing that even if he didn't want to admit it, he liked Potter's goofy behavior. The way Potter dug his food made Draco's legs go wobbly.

When they both were eating, Draco remembered Potter's drawing. "So, have you thought about doing something with the art you make?"

"No," Potter replied resolutely.

"I stumbled across your drawing earlier today."

"What drawing?" Potter stopped chewing his meal, green eyes darkening. Draco realized this was not a good subject, but went on with it anyway. Potter had never intimidated him, so he wouldn't back down now.

"The one you left on your desk."

"You nosed through my stuff?!" Potter exclaimed. "How dare you! I let you in my house and YOU VIOLATE MY PRIVACY!" Draco should've known this was coming. Potter was very keen on his privacy.

"It was just a drawing. As a matter of fact, it was my picture you drew, so that makes it a violation of my privacy."

"Don't start Malfoy. I don't want to talk about it. Those drawings are personal. Leave it alone." Potter's tone made it clear he didn't tolerate any protest.

Draco just shrugged, cutting a piece of chicken before bringing it to his mouth thoughtfully. "I'm just saying you should start doing something with your life. You won the war to be able to live. You should start doing that."

"I'm already living, Malfoy. Stop putting your nose into my stuff. Since when are you a philosopher? Since your dad got killed?" Potters words were as cold as ice. The mention of his father hit Draco in a sore spot.

"You're taking this too far, Potter," Draco hissed.

"You're in my house, Malfoy. I can kick you out whenever I want. You stay out of my room. That's the end of it."

"Fine. If you want to be a good-for-nothing, then be one. I won't bother you anymore." With those words, Draco got up from his chair and went upstairs. He had an lump in his throat and a nauseous feeling in his stomach. Even though Potter's words had hurt him, the fact that the Survivor felt like Draco was dispensable affected him more. Why was Potter so touchy all of a sudden? Always with the 'This is my house' line. Did it bother him so much that Draco was around? Draco thought he was finally getting through his thick skull, but no. What had happened to him during that war?

Well, honestly, a lot. Draco knew losing his not only his best friends but the majority of the other loved ones was hard on him, but he just never expected Potter to _give up. _That wasn't anything like him. Draco closed his bedroom door behind him and walked through the room he had been given. It was generous of the raven-haired man to let him stay here.

Potter had a point though. The drawings were his, and if he didn't want to share them, then so be it. Draco shouldn't meddle in it. To be honest, he just wanted to help. Well, since when was Draco so positive? He was still a death eater to the world, so becoming a Potionmaker wasn't actually something he could achieve, let alone be Potter's therapist. Draco sighed.

He was the good-for-nothing, not Potter.

* * *

Harry sat back in his chair, looking at the practically untouched food Malfoy had left behind. The man really had some nerve, daring to talk to him about starting to live his life. Ever since he was born he'd been trying to live a normal life. Now that he finally could have a shot at what he'd always been dreaming of, he didn't feel like it anymore. Who was there to share it with? Hagrid? Maybe. All the others were gone.

_Living his life._ As if Harry could ever make a living out of making stupid drawings. Even a kid could do it. Why had Malfoy gone through his stuff?! It was the second time he'd done that in only three weeks. He should've never drawn the stupid Slytherin. What would he be thinking now? Would Malfoy know Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about him? Every time he closed his eyes, grey eyes stared into his, pink lips coming closer.

Harry opened his eyes in shock, jumping off his chair as if he was stung by a bee. He needed to stop thinking about Malfoy kissing him. Malfoy had done that to pester him. As far as that went, nothing had changed since Hogwarts. Malfoy only wanted to drive him up the wall. That was what this whole gay thing was about, right? The thought of Malfoy being gay made unwanted images pop into Harry's head again.

Harry looked back at the table. The dinner Malfoy had made was slowly getting cold. It was a shame not to eat it. Malfoy knew his was around the kitchen, Harry could give him that. Why was he such a pain in the ass at other times? Why couldn't he just leave him alone. Harry was doing fine before he came.

Well, not exactly fine, but Merlin, he didn't need Malfoy to take care of him. He didn't need his grey eyes, pale skin, pointy face and tall figure to march around the grim chambers of the house. Yet again, Harry had to stop his train of thought there.

He'd only began living again when Malfoy had arrived. Before that he was hardly sober. Before that he hung onto memories, lived in the past. Before that, he was nobody._ A good-for-nothing._ Harry sank down on his chair again. Why was Malfoy the one to shake him awake? Why couldn't it be Molly? Or George? Or Ginny?

Anyone would have been better than Malfoy. Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes fluttering close slowly. Malfoy. Silver veils surrounded him, Malfoy's perfume penetrating his nose. Pink lips met red ones, long, slender fingers making their way across Harry's arms. Malfoy's index finger slipped underneath Harry's shirt, touching bare skin. His hand disappeared completely, tracing its way up to Harry's nipples. It became difficult for Harry to breathe. Malfoy's hand descended again, now teasingly pulling the rim of Harry's boxers. A naughty grin was plastered across Malfoy's face, lust clouding his dark grey eyes. Harry leaned in closer, trying to steal another kiss, but Malfoy was out of reach. He undid Harry's zipper and reached underneath Harry's boxers. Harry wanted to touch Malfoy's soft, silk skin, but he was too far away. Malfoy's fingers caressed his pubic hair, turning Harry on even more. He bucked up his hips, wanting Malfoy's hands to touch all of him.

Malfoy's hands surrounded Harry's erection, his heart skipping a beat. A soft moan fell from his lips, his eyes remaining closed. Malfoy quickened his pace, as Harry's need increased. Harry gave in to the desire, reaching his orgasm while grey eyes were burned on his retina.

When the blissful feeling died out, Harry withdrew his hands. He cleaned himself up quickly, trying to erase the intense silver stare from his memory. He felt filthy for thinking about Malfoy while satisfying himself. How could he face Malfoy after this? After thinking about his hands, all over his body? Harry sighed and got up, standing face to face with-

A shocked Malfoy.

A mixture of surprise, shock, embarrassment and lust washed over Harry.

"What are you doing here?" Harry brought out, feeling as small as a mouse. His voice sounded forced, nearly stumbling over his words, trying to erase the last few moments from his mind. Malfoy had NOT been standing in the kitchen. He wasn't here. It was a figment of his imagination, because he'd been fantasizing about Malfoy.

"I- er… I'm sorry- I mean, I wanted to apologize," Malfoy stammered. His voice sounded unnaturally high, which only gave proof that he'd witnessed Harry's masturbating scene. Harry's face reddened, feeling the hotness radiating off his cheeks – or rather off his entire body.

"… for what?" he managed to bring out. "_Please don't say witnessing this scene. Please don't say witnessing this scene."_

"For calling you a good-for-nothing," Malfoy responded. His eyes were still bewildered, but his voice was calming down. Harry stared back at the blonde. As long as he didn't say anything about it, Harry would act as if his nose was bleeding.

"Oh. Never mind. I get that all the time." Harry turned around, not knowing what to do with himself apart from pulling the hair out of his head.

"I'm sorry for, … interrupting." Harry spun back around, nearly choking in his spit.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Malfoy acted as dumbfounded as Harry felt, but the fact that the former Death Eater had the nerve to bring it up, made Harry lose it.

"You're kidding, right? First, you just nose through my stuff, acting like you own the place, and now you barge in the kitchen as if I wasn't even here, trying to act all innocent for being a bloody peeping Tom!"

"I'm sorry," was all Malfoy said.

"STOP SAYING YOU'RE SORRY!" the embarrassment had transformed into angriness, trying to shift the fault onto Malfoy. Harry wished he could die right now. "Could you just, … give me a moment?" Harry then added. Malfoy, who'd been immobile the entire time, nodded curtly and turned around, leaving Harry by himself.

Alone.

* * *

Draco excited the kitchen, making his way up the stairs, still in shock. He couldn't stop his mind from going back to the moment when he saw Potter.

His emerald eyes were closed, completely unaware of his surroundings. At first Draco didn't even realize Potter had his hand down his pants, and paused to look at him before announcing his arrival - until a soft moan slipped from Potter's red lips.

Instantly, Draco's body responded. He got goose bumps and a hot wave made its way down his abdomen. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Potter's body softly moved against his own touches, total relaxation written over his face. His dark eyelashes touched the skin underneath his eyes. His breathing was irregular and fast, loud enough for Draco to hear from the entrance of the kitchen.

Potter's chair was slightly leaning over, giving the man more space under the table. The biceps of his right arm contracted in a steady way, all the more proof of what was happening underneath the table.

Draco knew he had to get out of there. He knew Potter would eventually open his eyes and stare right into his face, but at this very moment, he was unable to move. Draco was already starting to back away, realizing that when Potter would look at him, he would see how flustered he'd become. Then, Potter slowly opened his eyes. Soft green irises looked up, not really focusing on anything. Gradually, they filled with insecurity. Guilt. Then, they focused on Draco.

For Salazar's sake, he should've been upstairs but he wasn't.

Draco shook his head, still not believing what he'd witnessed. He plopped down on the bed, trying to think about more boring stuff, but it was no use. Even the image Umbridge in pink ladies wear wasn't sufficient to stop Draco's desire. Merlin, how would he ever face the Survivor again? His cut-out jaw setting when he nearly reached his climax. Draco shook his head, cursing himself silently. Then he gave in. He pulled up the covers before unzipping his pants. His eyelids closed, green eyes, dark hair and red lips spinning around in his mind.

**To be continued…**


	6. Chapter 6: Peaceful

**This is the next part! I hope you like where the story is going! I want to thank EVERYONE who took the time to leave a trace of their passage and want to overload them all with kisses, but I'll retain myself.**

**Just enjoy the next part!**

Chapter six  
Peaceful

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Harry screamed, firing another spell at no particular point. He fell down on his knees, burying his hands in his hair. He had his wand in his right hand, sparks flying around it as another wave of rage boiled in his stomach.

"_Harry Potter. Silly Harry Potter. Your mother sacrificed herself for you. For love. Your father, your friends. Look where it got them. Look where it got you. No one will ever love you."_

"Stop! That's not true!" Harry whimpered, trying to get up on his feet again. His whole body was shaking, his eyes filled with fear and sorrow. "I'm going to get you anyway! You're not getting away with this!" Harry turned around again, a blue beam of light shooting from his wand, tearing up the wardrobe. Clothes flew around in the air, but Harry was oblivious to that scene. He was staring in the distance, focusing on something else.

"_I killed you, Harry Potter. You are dead. The only thing keeping you alive is the part of my soul. The part that Dumbledore told you about."_

"No. I'm the one who killed YOU!" Harry's voice was rasping from all the screaming, tears mingling with cold sweat.

"_Murderer."_ Harry covered his ears, trying to stop the voice from entering his mind. "_Murderer."_  
_"Murderer."_ Harry squeezed his eyes shut. _"Murderer."_

"AAAARRGGGHHHH!" A wave of magic radiated off The Boy Who Lived breaching the windows and destroying the furniture in his bedroom.

"Potter! POTTER!" a distant voice made it through, and Harry looked around, disoriented. Who was that?

"Potter! You need to calm down! You're destroying everything." Slowly, Harry could distinguish a pair of grey eyes, so much softer than the red ones that had been browsing through his memories. Silver.

"Potter, please. Just stop. You're – you're scaring me." At this, Harry focused on the eyes, and suddenly realized Malfoy was standing in front of him.

"What's your problem?" Harry asked. He looked around the deteriorated room, before eyeing the blonde again. He had a long, undeep cut in his forehead, and there was a tear in his right sleeve. Harry slowly came at peace. He'd been dreaming.

"You're destroying the room. You were talking to yourself. Have you been drinking again?"

"As a matter of fact I have. Do you have any trouble with that?" Harry retorted, the anger from before streaming through his veins again. It was a sort of rage that Harry couldn't control, resembling the constant anger he felt during his fifth year. This only concerned Harry even more.

"No. Just,… stay away from the liquor, it might help," Malfoy responded. Harry frowned at him, the words adding up to his temper.

"You're not my mother," he growled.

"I know, Potter! I know I'm not one of your special elite members, but I do know what I'm talking about! I'm only trying to help. I know you despise me for what I am, but at least I'm trying." Harry had no idea what Malfoy was so freaked out about, and shrugged:

"Trying what?"

"To help you out."

"I never asked for your help, Malfoy," Harry spat, curling his nose as if Malfoy was only filth.

"I don't need to be asked. Just calm down. Whatever it is you're hearing, it's not real."

"How could you possibly know what's real?" The panic and anxiety still sounded through in Harry's voice, however, the only thing reaching the surface was his fury.

"They're just dreams, Potter. It's not real. Don't listen to it." The calming tone in Malfoy's voice set Harry's teeth on edge.

"Just SHUT UP, MALFOY! You come parading in here, acting like you're so good and all, but at least I'm not the Death Eater!" Harry breathed in through his nose heavily, making his nosetrills tremble. "But you know what? It's fucked up. Does it make me better? No it doesn't! The more I try, the less it's appreciated. The whole damn Wizard World thinks I'm a lunatic now that I've killed their bloody Dark Lord. Now that their troubles are gone, they don't care about me anymore! Everyone I knew is dead! I'm a murderer! I'm practically dead!" Harry screamed. He stopped to catch his breath while his voice was suffering from all the shouting. Malfoy looked at him with a mixture of shock and compassion. During the silence they both shared, he didn't say a word. Harry looked at his feet. The adrenalin was slowly leaving his body, leaving only an empty shell behind.

When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse."No one will ever love me. I'm even pushing you away."

"I'm not mad at you," Malfoy responded. At this, Harry looked up again. How was it possible for Malfoy not to be mad at him? After all he'd said? Was it even Malfoy standing in front of him? Was he dreaming again?

"You're not?" Harry sank onto the ground, his body drained from throwing spells around.

"I know what it feels like. All my life I've been raised to join the Dark Side. When you killed You Know Who, I thought I didn't have a purpose anymore. Everything I was told to be was gone. All of a sudden, all my friends, school, all gone. I was practically dead when I wound up at your door. _You're_ the one who made _me _realize there was more to it." Malfoy was so nice. So friendly. Harry hadn't known friendly for a long, long time. All that was left in his head was hatred. And coldness.

"I didn't say anything," he whispered. His voice was too tired of screaming and Harry was afraid that Malfoy would hear the upcoming tears.

"I don't know what happened to you, Potter, but one thing I know for sure is that you'll get through it. Even if it's the last thing I do."

"That's too cheeky," Harry replied, a watery smile crossing his face. Malfoy's words made him feel better. The last fears were fading away. Harry's head finally cleared up and he could think clearly again. Malfoy sat down next to him, giving a loud sigh.

"At least you're smiling again."

"I'm sorry. This room is a mess," Harry apologized, looking around disheartened. The pillows were ripped apart, feathers scattered everywhere. The headboard of the bed was loose, and the mattress was torn in various places. Clothes had been bombarded out of the wardrobe, and the shelves in the wardrobe had fallen. A cold breeze came through the broken window, glass scattered around along with splinters of statuettes. Flowers had fallen off the shelve, water dripping on the ground as the vase had burst as well.

A sense of shame washed over Harry, feeling sorry for causing the damage. It hadn't been the first time though, this had happened on various occasions. The only difference now was that he had a witness. And he could have easily hurt him. As a matter of fact he already had, taking the cut and the clothes into account.

"You can't stay here, Malfoy. I'm dangerous." He looked at Malfoy intently, trying to show him that he wasn't joking.

"Well, you promised me I could stay here, so I don't have a choice actually."

"Then hurry up to find something new."

"I'm not afraid of you Potter. You only wish I would be."

"I don't want you to be scared of me, Malfoy. I'm just not myself at times." Harry looked at his feet, still feeling guilty for hallucinating.

"Thanks for sharing. I've noticed," Malfoy noted dryly.

"Don't make this a joke! I was out of this world until you made me snap out of it!" Harry snapped, glaring at the blonde.

"You're fine now. Just- try and control it. I'm sure you can."

"I CAN'T!" Harry roared, jumping up. "I've been like this ever since the war! I can't control it. It just happens."

"You're screaming again, Potter. Just calm down." Malfoy got up as well and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry retreated, pushing the man off with a hard punch.

"Stop it right there Potter! I'm not letting you get away with this. Don't touch a Malfoy!" Harry was finally getting on Malfoy's nerves, but this only increased Harry frustration.

"Don't you dare touch me, ever again," Harry threatened, pointing a shaky finger at the man. Why couldn't he just disappear? Why couldn't this be over? Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, but he tried to fight them away. He couldn't be weak. He shouldn't be weak. _"You are weak, Harry Potter. So weak." _The voice in Harry's head made his blood freeze. He squeezed his eyes shut to push it away and tried to focus on Malfoy.

"I do what I please," the blonde spoke, oblivious to Harry's inner fight. "You're not going to tell me what to do, Potter. It's not because you killed You Know-V…_Voldemort_ that-"

Out of the blue a sharp sting of pain made Harry bend over, clutching his chest with his hand. The pain made his heart clench. Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks as he fell onto the ground, gasping for air. The stab of pain resembled the one Harry had felt that time in the kitchen, however, he had no clue where it had come from.

"What's wrong? What's wrong Potter?" Malfoy squatted next to him, watching him with concern.

"I'm… fine," Harry managed to bring out. Regardless of what he'd said, he was squirming like a fish out of the water.

"You're not fine, Potter. Is it the name? Is it because I said his name?"

"I do-" Harry whispered, but couldn't finish his sentence, the agony taking the better part of him. Harry hugged his knees to his chest, hoping the torment would be over soon.

"Imperturbatus," Malfoy said, pointing his wand at him. Harry remembered that to be the calming spell. His body stopped shaking and then the pain disappeared. As if it had never been there.

"I'm fine again," Harry said, trying to get up again.

"No- just, … stay," Malfoy said, pushing him down softly. "You sit here while I fix the room, okay?" Harry just nodded, thinking about the sharp pain in his chest. It was as if someone had stabbed a knife, straight through his heart. Harry was exhausted. He felt like resting and closed his eyes for a short second.

The last thing on his mind was a blonde haired man, mumbling 'Reparo' while walking through the room.

* * *

When Draco finished cleaning up the mess, he turned around to see that Potter was soundly sleep. His cheeks were still red and you could see the lines where his tears had fallen. Draco walked up to him, picked him up and carried him to the bed. He'd put on a lot of weight since Draco first moved here, as he'd been able to carry the man upstairs without trouble. Now, he was already panting when he reached the bed two feet away.

After putting him down, Draco put the cover over him. It was the first time he'd seen Potter this crazy. The cut in his forehead stung and Draco could feel a headache coming up. When he'd entered the room, he'd thought Potter was just having a fit. But when their eyes had met, Draco had seen Potter wasn't looking at him. In fact, it was as if the raven-haired man wasn't even aware of his whereabouts.

It scared Draco. It scared him because he knew it was something that You Know Who had caused. He knew it was more painful for the Survivor than he said it was. The tortured look in the green irises when Potter had been trapped in his own mind, the begging look when Draco told him he would help him. Determination boiled up in his stomach. He would fix this.

Draco stepped backwards to the door. The room was back in its previous state. The only thing reminding him of what had really happened was the large cut in his forehead and his ripped clothes. Apart from that, everything was peaceful again.

Even Potter.

* * *

Harry was busy in his study, making the Developing Solution to develop his drawings. The potion was a very tricky one, and even though Harry had never been outstanding in Potions, he managed to get it right every time.

He had just added the froglegs and started stirring counter-clockwise when Malfoy entered with a short knock. Harry turned around, annoyed.

"I'm busy." His dry tone clearly showed his annoyance, glaring at the blonde to make sure he got the clue.

"I know you are. I was wondering, would you like to order something to eat this evening? I don't really feel like doing grocery shopping." Did Malfoy come to disturb to ask something _so _stupid? Harry didn't care about the bloody food! Not as for right now.

"Fine." Harry turned around again, chopping the rattails into equal slices. Malfoy kept looking at Harry, he could feel the silver gaze burning in his neck. "What?" Malfoy had taken two steps forward, standing about three feet away from him. He was fidgeting with his hands, something that wasn't very typical for him.

"Nothing. How much potion do you need for one drawing?" Harry resisted the urge to run over to the man and push him out hard-handedly. Instead, he took two calming breaths and responded.

"It depends on the size of the drawing. I can develop about five drawings with one cauldron."

"Good. I never knew you could make the Developing Solution. It's a hard one." The fact that Malfoy was small talking made Harry's hair curl with frustration. Why couldn't he just go downstairs ordering whatever food he wished to order? Why was he up for socializing all of a sudden? Harry blew the fire some more, trying to ignore him.

Why wouldn't he go away? To be honest, Harry didn't want Malfoy to see how he developed the pictures. There was only one from Hermione included. The other three were Malfoy. Yes, you heard it well, he'd drawn two more. Even though there was nothing wrong with him drawing the former Death Eater, Harry didn't want the blonde to start questioning his reasons for drawing him. He actually didn't want him to know at all that he had drawn him more than once.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, thinking back about the evening watching the Notebook, moments before turning off the television. Fastforward. Malfoy's pink lips fit perfectly, the kiss tasted like more. The way Malfoy had hovered over him, closing in Harry's body between Malfoy and the couch. Nevertheless, just like everything in Harry's life, it had gone wrong. Malfoy preferred forgetting about the kiss. Probably about their embrace as well. He'd started this whole nonsense, and now he wanted to forget about it. Harry heaved a sigh.

"Something bothering you?" Malfoy questioned. Harry nearly knocked over the cauldron, having totally forgotten Malfoy was there. He could curse the blonde right now. Frankly, he could curse him every time of the day.

"No, why?" he responded, trying to sound as cool as possible.

"You're just staring in the distance. It's about time you added the juice of the figs." This only triggered Harry's frustration, adding fuel to the fire.

"I KNOW THAT! I made it a hundred times already!" Harry exclaimed, turning around at once. "Why are you so chatty all of a sudden? Just order the damn food." How did the ferret face dare to even _question _his skills. Harry's temper quickly rose, causing him to throw the juice of the figs in all at once, whereas it had to be poured in softly, while stirring slowly.

"Calm down, crazy," Malfoy replied, holding up his hands while walking away. "There's no need to scream or shout." Harry tried to save his potion, by softly stirring, hoping the juice wouldn't spoil everything. This was all Malfoy's fault.

"I'm _not_ crazy. Stop pestering me, Malfoy. I'm warning you," Harry said defensively, throwing a threatening glance over his shoulder.

"I'm not even doing anything!" Malfoy exclaimed, a crooked grin appearing on his face. The sight of the half-smile was cute, however, Harry's temper was unable to be tamed. He needed Malfoy to get out of here. Quickly. The blonde had already witnessed enough. The thought of Harry's intimate moment in the kitchen made Harry's cheeks turn red. _Malfoy standing in the doorway. _Hopefully, Malfoy would consider it as a sign of anger.

"Stop grinning like a fool. Get the hell out of here."

"You've become one vicious man, Potter. I'm telling you." At this, Harry stepped forward, a dangerous look in his emerald eyes.

"Get. Out."

"Fine! Fine. I'll meet you downstairs in an hour, okay?" Harry just shrugged and went back to his potion, stewing in the cauldron. What a man needed to do to have his privacy.

Honestly. Harry's thoughts went back to the man he was living with. Would he just have told Harry he was gay to torment him? Not that Harry was the slightest bit affected by it. He wasn't gay, at all. Fantasizing about a man who had tightly embraced you and then kissed you senseless could be considered by some as 'gay', but Harry disregarded that information. It was irrelevant. He'd been straight for seventeen years, you couldn't become gay all of a sudden. Not because Malfoy was downstairs, making a call to a food-delivery service. Harry's lips tingled when thinking about the way Malfoy would be bent over on his knees, his head in the fireplace.

Harry then snapped out of it. Merlin, he needed to focus on his potion, otherwise it would burn. The substance was a shade too light, but it would work nevertheless. It had to work, because he was desperate to finish his drawings.

He got them out of the file, and finished the potion. He then put one drawing, with Malfoy's face on it in the bucket, pouring three veils of Developing Solution on it. It had to be in there until tomorrow morning, but Harry could already imagine vividly how Malfoy's lips would curl up in his signature crooked grin, eyes shining bright silver.

The shade of silver that made his heart flutter.

* * *

Draco turned around in his bed, trying to get back to sleep. In the room next to him, Potter was moaning and crying. At a point, his screams had been so loud it had awakened him. Now he was listening to Potters exclamations disturbing the silent night. He closed his eyes again, trying to empty his mind.

Ever since Draco had arrived here, Potter had these incredibly intense dreams about You Know Who. At times, it would even get so bad that Potter was literally hallucinating. It bothered Draco, but he didn't have the slightest clue what to do about it. During his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco had experienced bad dreams as well, but they weren't anything compared to Potters. He struggled in his covers, he scratched himself bathing in sweat upon awakening.

Draco stopped his train of thought and focused on listening. Potter had gone silent. Draco gave a sigh of relief, before turning around again, trying to shift to the right position. Then, gradually his bedroom door opened. Draco quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. The door closed with the same squeaking sound and at first, Draco thought Potter had left. Until someone was standing next to him.

Potter pushed back the covers just a little and slid underneath them. Draco picked up his scent, a small grin appearing on his face. Potter softly crawled underneath the covers, scooting closer as he tried to lie down. He thought Draco was fast asleep. Potters upper arm brushed past Draco's pajamas, sending a hot wave through Draco's body. He was glad not to be asleep.

Draco slowly turned around, his eyes remaining closed, wrapping a slender arm around Potter's torso. No fabric. Potter's hot skin tingled underneath Draco's fingertips, itching to stroke it but he retained himself. Potter didn't need to know he was awake. The raven-haired man didn't respond to Draco's touch, in fact he was frozen. Draco could imagine Potter didn't have the slightest idea what to do, having a _cuddly_ Draconext to him.

Draco cuddled even closer, burying his nose in the crook of Potter's neck. The man smelled delicious, even though he presumably just had a nightmare. The masculine smell of his body had an erotic effect on Draco. Regardless of how cuddly his position was, it would be impossible to fall asleep without completely ravishing the man underneath him first. He could hear Potter's heart thumbing steadily. Draco could not withhold himself any longer and moved his fingertips up and down, slowly caressing Potter's chest. He moved his hand to the right, softly touching Potter's nipple. It reacted immediately, as did Potter's entire body. His heart sped up, his breathing faltered.

"Malfoy. Are you awake?" Potter's deep voice asked. His throat was still hoarse from sleeping and screaming, giving the sound a smoky effect. As he spoke, Draco could feel his chest resonate with the words.

"Hmm?" Draco hummed in reply. He continued caressing Potter's upper body, slowly opening his eyes. The room was dim, however Draco could perceive the curves of Potter's body, until it disappeared under the blanket.

"Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?" Potter sounded insecure, nevertheless, the question was unnecessary as Potter was already lying next to him.

"No. It's fine," Draco responded. He could feel a sigh of relief falling off Potter's chest. Draco scooted closer, positioning his body against Potters. His bare feet touched Potter's. He shifted at the cold touch, but eventually allowed Draco to put his feet between his.

Salazar's Grief. He would volunteer for this every night.

* * *

Harry was facing the ceiling, seeing nothing but darkness. Malfoy was cuddled up against him, breathing deeply. It had taken a while for the blonde to fall asleep. Harry, however couldn't get himself to even close his eyes. He wasn't tired at all. In fact, he was wide awake, very aware of his surroundings. Malfoy's cold toes were buried between his feet, his legs were pressed against his and Malfoy's slender arm was loosely wrapped around his chest. Harry could also feel Malfoy's crotch against his upper left leg.

How was he supposed to sleep? Malfoy's scent was on him, his slim figure pressed against him and Merlin- Harry was aroused. The more he thought about it, the more turned on he became. He was in an awful position, if Malfoy would wake up, he would definitely notice the bump in the covers.

What had been going through his mind for Harry to come here? After what had happened in the kitchen, he should have known Malfoy would have this effect on him again. Honestly, Harry didn't expect the blonde to cuddle against him. He more or less had assumed they would sleep next to each other, without touching. But here he was, caught in Malfoy's loose, but somehow firm grip.

The worst part about it though, was that Harry didn't mind. At all.

**To be continued…**


	7. Chapter 7: Falling Apart

**Another one! I just want to thank SnowWhiteOwl and LandlessLord for their continuous support, and everyone else who reviewed, favourited and followed! I also want to thank the guests for leaving a comment, since I can't reply with a PM! **

**Enjoy the next part!**

Chapter 7

Falling Apart

Harry got out of bed and made his way down the stairs. He'd been dreaming badly again, and had woken up with a dry mouth. He desperately needed something to drink. Being in a rush, he didn't turn on the light and just tried to find his way through the dark.

He was looking at his feet, following the steps of the stairs when all of a sudden he bumped into something. He faltered, skipped a step and fell forward. Luckily, Harry was almost downstairs, so he didn't fall very deep. He didn't fall hard either, as he hit a soft, warm body.

Malfoy.

"For Salazar's Sake, Potter, can't you turn on a light!" Malfoy voice sounded from underneath him, and Harry could feel the warm breath through his hair.

"You didn't turn it on either," Harry fired back. He could see the contours of Malfoy's face in the light of the full moon shining through the window of the front door. Gradually, it downed on Harry. Malfoy was half naked, his bare chest touching Harry's. The contrast of the warm touch with the chilliness of the hallway sent goosebumps down Harry's body, his nipples stiffening.

"Would you mind getting off, Potter?" Malfoy asked dryly. Harry was still frozen, the wave of goosebumps passing by his crotch, having an unwanted effect. Harry jumped up, releasing Malfoy from his grip, but the damage was done. He'd jumped away two seconds too late.

Embarrassment written over his face, Harry made his way to the kitchen. Much to Harry's displease, Malfoy followed him, instead from heading up the stairs again. Harry knew Malfoy must've felt how he had gotten hard on top of the Slytherin. He avoided eye-contact filling a glass of water at the tab.

"Thirsty?" Malfoy asked. What a stupid question whas that? Seriously, why couldn't he just disappear again?

"Yeah," was all Harry said. The moment from before kept replaying in his mind, only increasing his erection. The fact that he was only wearing boxers didn't do his current state any good.

"I was too. You were talking in your sleep again." Why was the stupid ferret up for some small-talking, now of all times? Harry faced the sink, not wanting to turn around and show his erection to the man. The underpants would be virtually transparent.

"Oh," was all Harry could add. He didn't know what to say. Merlin, the only damn thing he could think about was the bloody Slytherin standing behind him in the kitchen and his anoying problem in his pants.

"No problem, though," Malfoy said, waving with his hand. Harry froze. _Problem?_

"What?"

"I'm just acting like you apologized for bumping into me like that." Harry quircked an eyebrow, wanting to spin around and punch the bloody bastard in the face, but instead just screamed at the kitchen tiles.

"I don't have to apologize! You were going _up_ the stairs, you bumped into me."

"But I'm not the one getting turned on by it." Harry spilt his drink over his torso, gasping from both the cold water and the rudeness of the comment.

"I'm NOT turned on by _you, _Malfoy," Harry growled, putting down the drink and turning around to grab a towel. Now he was wet as well. Brilliant. Now his underpants wouldn't be _virtually _transparant, they just would be transparant. He'd better stayed in bed and waited for the morning to come to drink. Out of the blue, Malfoy's hand was on his erection, his breath falling on his cheeks. Harry didn't know where that had come from, dropping the towel in surprise.

"Then what's this?" Malfoy's whisper made Harry moan softly, nearly whimpering at the touch of Malfoy's large hands. He leaned backwards, into Malfoy's chest before he realized what he was doing.

"GET OFF, MALFOY!" Harry exclaimed, pushing Malfoy away at once. Who in the Wizarding World did he think he was? "How dare you touch me?"

"As if you had any objections. You liked it, Potter. Just admit it." Malfoy seemed way too confident, standing there in the dim kitchen. Harry, on the other hand, knew he was losing this fight.

"I'm not admitting anything, Malfoy. You're just putting words in my mouth."

"I can read body language, Potter. I know you liked it. Liar."

"Stop it!" Harry retorted, unable to come up with anything else. Frankly, he had liked everything about that moment. The way Malfoy had towered over him, bending down to be able to whisper in his ear. The way his strong arms were wrapped around him, touching him more intimate than anyone had done before.

"If you're still going to be stubborn, I'm going back to bed. 'Night." Now he was leaving? This guy was unbelievable. Harry remained immobile, facing the white tiles above the kitchen sink again. This had not just happened. This had not just happened.

But Harry's body was telling him otherwise. Sadly enough for Harry, he wouldn't be getting any sleep without getting rid of the problem in his boxers.

* * *

Draco was making a sophisticated dinner: salmon, stuffed with broccoli, topped with a cream sauce and mashed potatoes with cheese on top, that would go in the oven in a bit. The blonde was already getting hungry, preparing all the ingredients. He'd put on the radio, but much to Draco's dislike the new song of the Weird Sisters had been interrupted by The Wizarding Wireless Network News. As if Draco cared about all the new Death Eaters they had captured. They had imprisoned his mother and killed his father, that was more than enough.

The broadcast was over, and the Witching Hour was just about to start when he heard Potter enter.

"Look, I found this on the coffee table," the Survivor said, waving a paper in Draco's face.

"Yeah, it's mine," Draco responded, placing the paper on the counter before continuing to stir the cream sauce with his wand.

"What's MY DRAWING doing in the bloody Daily Prophet, Malfoy?" The front page of the Daily prophet was filled with a moving drawing of Hermione Granger, underneath the headline: _"Boy Who Lived returns… as an artist!"_

"You seriously need to do something about your temper, Potter," Draco responded, rolling his eyes as Potter got mad at him yet again. "It's getting out of hand." Of course, he'd known Potter would react like this. However, the urge to reveal Potter's beautiful work was stronger than the will to stay out of trouble. Not that he was in _real _trouble anyway.

"Don't you dare changing the bloody subject, Malfoy. You went and published my personal stuff, behind my bloody back!" Potter screamed. Draco turned off the stove and turned around, preparing to face a snorting Potter.

"Did you read the article? It says nothing but good stuff. The people are glad you're still alive. I did it for your own good."

"My own good? How could you possibly know what's good for me, Malfoy? Look at _you_." Potter's words came smashing in, but Draco tried not to show that he was the least affected by them.

"The only thing I can say is that you're doing way better since I got here. Maybe you need to stop shutting everyone out. Your drawings are beautiful. I even got a call from McGonagall. She didn't want to disturb you until now because she was convinced you needed some time. But now that she knows you're crawling out of your hole again, she suggested you should go to Hogwarts." This seemed to get Potter off the Daily Prophet matter.

"To do what, exactly?" Sarcasm dripped off his deep voice, turning Draco on and pissing him off at the same time.

"Be an art teacher, of course. I suggested it to her. She'll do a survey with the students to see what they think, but she agrees that the Wizards need a bit of creativity." Draco was starting to feel very good about himself, a hot glow gleaming in his throat.

"YOU SUGGESTED IT TO HER?" Potter roared. Draco looked up at Potter, quircking an eyebrow. The man could get angry about _anything._

"Yes," Draco replied coolly.

"What else did you do behind my back, you horrible ferret! Mind your own business!" Potter's vocabulary had clearly increased since Hogwarts, but Draco wasn't intimidated.

"I was trying to please you, Potter. Just calm down. I thought you said you didn't care what they wrote about you? Ignore it, if you can't stand it. Don't blame it on me. I know it will do you good. You've always felt at home at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"You can't know that." Potter was so defensive, it finally got on Draco's nerves. Couldn't he just say 'Thank you'? Nobody had asked Draco to do this! Still, he'd done it for Potter. To make him feel better.

"I'm not stupid, Potter. Stop suggesting I'm a moron, you brainless fool! _I _felt at home at Hogwarts. More at home than I ever felt with my father! That's why I figured you did too. Stop being an idiot. You're better than this! McGonagall knows it. I know it."

"You're impossible," Potter replied, throwing his hands in the air before leaving.

"You're the ones who's being impossible," Draco muttered under his breath. The man was getting on his nerves. It aggravated him that Potter could be like this. He already admitted that he knew Potter wouldn't be happy with it, but at least he'd expected the man to know the motivation to it. It was as if he had just handed him over to the Dark Lord.

Merlin. That man needed to get laid. Quickly.

LINEBREAK

"Potter. Dinner's ready," Draco called upstairs, when he'd placed the table. The food smelled delicious, and Draco was partly hoping that Potter would forget about the Prophet and just be normal. Not that Potter had ever been normal, but still.

Potter came bouncing down the stairs and took his seat, without speaking.

"Are you still upset?" Draco tried cautiously.

"Yes, Malfoy. It's the third time you did this. You crossed a line." Was he going to start ranting about crossing lines now?

"I like crossing lines. It gets you somewhere. Besides, I never thought you were someone to stick to the rules, Potter. Why so prudent all of a sudden?"

"I don't want people to talk! I hate it. I hate you!" Potter then stuffed his mouth with mashed potatoes, looking at his plate to avoid eye contact. Nevertheless, Draco had heard the tears in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, guiltily. Maybe he had taken the drawing thing a little too far. He owed the man an apology. Nevertheless, Draco did not regret his decision.

"Don't you ever buy that bloody paper again!" Potter snapped. This seemed to take Draco's guilt away again.

"I'm a grown man, Potter. I can buy whatever I want," he responded, quirking an eyebrow.

"Not with MY money." Potter was talking with a mouthful, probably something he picked up from the Weasel. However, Draco was too busy trying to make a statement to say something about it.

"What do you expect? That I go to Gringotts and drily ask the Goblins to take me to the Malfoy's vault? They'd arrest me pronto!"

"I don't care," Potter grumbled. Draco observed him for a moment, trying to figure out whether the man cared or not. He decided Potter actually did care about it, because otherwise he wouldn't have let Draco in. Then, something occurred to him.

"Talking about arresting. They're sending my mother to Azkaban tomorrow."

"What?!" The cutlery clattered on Potters plate, resounding awfully loud in the suddenly quiet kitchen.

"She'll have a hearing, then they'll put her in Azkaban. It's on page eleven," Draco explained, pointing to the Prophet with his fork.

"You didn't tell me that! She's not supposed to be in Azkaban. Merlin, she was the one who saved me!" Potter seemed out of his wits. He jumped up to get the paper from the counter and quickly read the article.

"Yeah. It's a bit too late for that now, isn't it," Draco whispered. Now that his thoughts were settled on his mother, he didn't feel hungry anymore. She'd always been nice to him. He had always respected her, and she had cherished him with all her heart. She was everything he could ever ask for in a mother. The thought of losing her tore his heart up with sadness.

"No!" Potter exclaimed. "When does it start? I'm going to the Ministry to put this right."

"You're what?" Draco asked, dumbfounded. Potter had completely lost it.

"She SAVED my life, Malfoy. She isn't supposed to be in Azkaban." Potter's hands made big gestures, convincing Draco all the more that he had indeed gone insane .

"Don't talk bullshit, Potter. She saved nobody's life."

"She did. I never told anyone. After Voldemort hit me with the Killing Curse, I woke up again. She had to check up on me, to confirm that I was dead. She asked me if you were still alive, and I replied you were. She told Voldemort I was dead. That's how I was able to kill him. Otherwise he would've just hit me again with the curse, and I would have been history."

Draco looked at Potter with eyes as big a saucers, finding it impossible to believe what he'd just told. Was there a tiny chance his mother wouldn't be sent to Azkaban? After all she'd done to help his father? Draco didn't dare to hope. He hadn't had hope since the Mark had been burned on his arm. But now that Potter had told him this, a tiny sparkle of hope flared up in his chest.

Potter could save her.

* * *

Harry walked through the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. As he had expected, a lot of people were surprised by his appearance. Many wizards just stopped talking to one another, to look at him, others greeted him with a curt nod.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," a gentleman with a mustache said. Harry was sure he'd seen him before, but he couldn't remember his name. It had been too long since he'd last been around people.

"Morning," Harry responded, politely smiling back at the man while passing by. He was glad to make it to the elevators. There were only two people in it. They looked at him, Harry noticed their glances go up two inches to his forehead and then focusing back on him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At least Malfoy didn't do that.

Malfoy.

Harry had never seen him so stressed before. The blonde had tried to negotiate with him, but it was useless. Harry was desperate to make an appearance on the hearing of Narcissa Malfoy and he would do anything within his powers to prevent her from going to Azkaban. She, of all people, had not deserved this.

Malfoy had lent him a grey tuxedo, combined with a green blouse and black tie. Malfoy had adapted its size to Harry's body, using a spell Harry couldn't remember. Sometimes he still felt like he was eleven years old, ignorant of the variety of spells commonly used.

However, there was a tiny little voice in Harry's head, warning him that this was a bad idea. When Narcissa and Malfoy would be cleared of all charges, there was no reason for Malfoy to stay with him anymore. The thought latched itself to Harry's mind, while he went back and forth between contradicting emotions, resembling the movements of the elevator.

The elevator kept moving forward and backwards, occasionally up or down until they reached Level Ten, the department under the Department Of Mysteries. Harry got out, being grateful for not running into anyone he knew and marched to Courtroom Ten, the room where he had gotten his hearing back in the fifth year. Harry was getting nervous. He knocked before entering, but the Hearing hadn't started yet.

He took his seat, looking around the circular room. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic was sitting in the head chair. He recognized John Dawlish, the Auror that had assisted Cornelius Fudge in sending Dumbledore to Azkaban, who was sitting on his right side and Amelia Bones, the woman who had interrogated him during his own trial was sitting on Shacklebolts left side. The Wizengamot had seats on the left side of the courtroom, on the other side there were stands for the public, where Harry and other wizards were sitting.

Malfoy had wanted to come along, but that wasn't a very clever idea. Even though Harry would try to clear him and his mother of all charges, he didn't want any unnecessary spite. Harry was pulled out of his reverie when Narcissa was brought in. Harry noticed how thin she was. That was very saddening to see, as Narcissa had always been a beautiful and proud woman, slender, but not thin. They put her in the iron cage, even though the woman couldn't do any harm.

"Hearing of the twenty-third of August, Narcissa Malfoy, resident at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, is accused of supporting her husband Lucius Malfoy in following Lord Voldemort and his plans to kill Harry James Potter. Her son Draco Malfoy is still fugitive. Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; John Dawlish, Headauror; Percy Ignatius Weasley, Court Scribe, " Shacklebolt spoke. The beginning resembled Harry's hearing in a disquieting way. Harry looked back to the black cage, to the woman with the platina blonde hair. It was in a pitiful state, uncombed strands pointing in various directions. Narcissa looked terrified, clutching to the iron bars.

Harry waited for the hearing to reach the part where a testimony was allowed and stood up politely. Nobody expected someone to testify, there were harldy people there, except for the Wizengamot. Harry clared his throat and started talking. "I, Harry Potter, would like to make a testimony in favor of Narcissa Malfoy." Instantly, Narcissa turned to him, her eyes filled with tears, an expression of hope on her face.

"We are listening," Kingsley replied, nodding curtly.

"During the Second Wizarding War, Narcissa Malfoy helped me defeating Lord Voldemort. After Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse, I didn't die. It only killed the Horcrux that had attached itself to me. Voldemort demanded someone to check to see if I was still alive and Narcissa volunteered. When she saw I was still alive, she lied to Voldemort, declaring I was dead. That is how I was able to defeat Voldemort. If someone else had checked up on me, Voldemort might have killed me in the Forbidden Forest."

There was an intense silence while everyone in the courtroom tried to place that new piece of information.

"Thank you Mr. Potter. However, we feel that Narcissa handled with the intension of saving her family, not saving you. She might not have cared whether you were killed or not. We will discuss this in a moment."

"She saved my life," Harry replied politely. "And I want to say something on Draco Malfoy as well. Even though he's carrying the Dark Mark, Malfoy is not a Death Eater. I was there when he tried to kill Dumbledore. You know that Minister. He couldn't do it. Snape did it instead. After being caught by Snatchers and being brought to the Manor, Malfoy was the one who decided whether Voldemort would be called in or not, to kill me. He told them he didn't recognize me, but I know he did. He saved my life as well." Harry spoke while looking at Narcissa. Her eyes were filled with sorrow when he spoke about her son. The gratitude radiated off her frail body, hardly capable of remaining upright despite her efforts. Harry could only imagine what she had been going through the past two months.

"Thank you Mr. Potter. We will vote now."

* * *

Draco was pacing around the living room, looking at the digital watch under the television every ten seconds. Even though it was a Muggle device, he was grateful for it to be there. The Hearing had started at 10 o'clock. It was already a quarter past eleven, and Potter still wasn't back.

Draco's nerves were killing him. He was anxious for his mother to be punished and just hoped Potter's story would be good enough to discharge her of the claims. Draco had been begging to come along, but he knew he couldn't. Anyway, he was still waiting for Potter to come home and tell him either good or bad news.

No. He would tell him good _and _bad news. If his mother was indeed free to go, and Potter had managed to clear Draco's name as well, that meant he would be going back to the Manor. That also meant he wouldn't be able to see Potter anymore. As the though settled in Draco's mind, he tensed. It felt as if someone had just poured a cold glass of water over him.

Why was this such bad news? Draco would be lying to himself if he said he just stayed here because he had no place else to go. He'd also stayed because he liked being around Potter. He'd grown fond of him. Draco buried his hands in his hair in frustration.

Why did this have to be so difficult?

Why couldn't Potter just come home?

As if Salazar had heard his prays, Draco heard the front door swing open. As swift as a hawk, Draco ran to the hall, a questioning look on his face. This was it. The moment of truth.

Potter looked at him, a sad expression dominating his face. Draco's heart sank into his boots. No. this couldn't be true. Narcissa would be sent to Azkaban.

"What happened?" Draco questioned, the tension sounding through his voice.

"It's good. Narcissa is cleared of all charges, so are you. You don't have to hide anymore." The news made Draco's heart jump up, but at the same time, it slapped him in the face. "Narcissa was sent to St. Mungo's. I suggest you go ahead and clean up the Manor a bit until she can go home again." Potter sounded very cold.

"Thanks," Draco murmured, turning around and heading up the stairs. What had gotten into Potter? Was he still mad for publishing his picture in the Daily Prophet? The bottom line of what the Survivor had said was to get out of his house. He hadn't put it so literally, but that was what he meant. He had only let Draco stay here because he had no place else to go. And now he did.

Clean up the Manor. It had only been two months since they had left. There wouldn't be much to clean up. Two months. They had gone by so fast. Potter had changed so much in only two months. When he first arrived here, Potter had been an awful drunk, caught up in his own misery. Now, the man was working out again. He was getting better. Draco would not be around anymore to witness his progress.

Draco sank down on his bed – the bed the Hero had assigned him to have – and closed his eyes. The thought of leaving Potter behind was unbearable. His chest was aching, giving Draco difficulty to breathe. Slowly, tears appeared in his eyes. He tried to fight them off, but eventually they dripped on his cheeks, making their way down to fall off his chin.

He could just ask Potter if he could stay. He could suggest to come by every now and then. He could say he wanted to keep seeing him. But Draco didn't have the guts for it. Potter had rejected him several times already, so Draco didn't know what he would reply. The fear of receiving a 'No' was bigger than the urge to ask. The Golden Boy would probably just tell him to go. He would finally have his peace. Be alone, like he'd wanted ever since Draco moved in.

Draco shook his head. He couldn't stand to be in this place for another moment. He could breathe Potter in every inch of this room. He couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye to all of this. He got up again, tried to wipe his tears away and went downstairs.

He went to the kitchen hesitantly, where Potter was sitting. At first, Draco didn't say anything. Nothing came to his mind. What in Salazar's name should he say? _'Thanks for everything, bye' 'See you around?' _or _'Have a good life.' _Draco wanted to curse himself right now. He just wanted to rewind the time. Go back to their embrace, on the cold floor of the living room. Go back to their kiss, on the soft sofa. Potter's sweet smell hung around him, as if to say goodbye one last time.

"I'll probably go now. There's still a lot to take care of," Draco said, trying to sound calm. His statement was invalid: there was nothing to care car of. There wouldn't be anyone waiting to welcome him at the Manor. Draco only said that to cover up the miserable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Potter wasn't supposed to know how he felt. The man had done his best to help him. He saved both of their lives, and he wasn't even forced to. He'd volunteered to help. Draco hadn't been able to stop him, the man had just run out the door like a headless chicken, saying his mother wasn't a bad person. Hearing that coming from the Golden Boy made Draco's heart flutter.

"Good. If you need anything, just say so." Potter's reply was very standard. What was that supposed to mean? It wasn't an invitation. It was more a sort of sentence you used when you _have _to say someone's welcome but you don't _want _them to come.

"No. I'll be fine." Draco turned around again, tears filling his eyes again. If someone could see him now. They would just laugh their asses off, realizing what a pussy he'd become. However, Potter was not to blame. The raven-haired man had told Draco from the beginning this was temporary, so the news didn't exactly come as a surprise. Nor did the heartache.

"Okay," Potter replied. Draco didn't look at him. He couldn't. He was afraid that his emotions would completely go out of control upon seeing the beautiful shade of green staring back at him. He just started walking away. Then hesitated.

"I-" Draco started, spinning around to face Potter one last time. He couldn't leave without looking into those beautiful puddles, at least once. However, the words got stuck in his mouth, and he didn't know what to say. "Take care."

With those words, Draco walked into the hallway. He could feel Potters eyes burn in his neck, but he didn't turn around. He wanted Potter to run after him, to pull him back and beg him to stay. But Potter wouldn't do that. He wouldn't _want_ that. That's why Draco kept walking.

It was over now.

* * *

Harry sat down on his kitchen chair as Malfoy made his way up the stairs. The blonde could have shown a little respect. He had tried his hardest to help both of them. All he had gotten was a muffled 'thanks'.

Harry sighed. The thought of being alone again scared him. Who would he run to when his nightmares kept him awake at night? Who would prevent him from drinking whenever he pleased? Who would make those lovely dinners Harry always looked forward to? Harry never would have guessed he would get used to Malfoy's presence so easily. He was present in so many aspects of his life that it was difficult for the Gryffindor to exclude the blonde.

Harry heard steps on the stairs and waited for Malfoy to enter the kitchen. The blonde stopped in the doorway, avoiding Harry's gaze. "I'll probably go now. There's still a lot to take care of." Malfoy's voice sounded a bit off. That probably was because of the relief. Harry could only imagine what it was like to have his mother sent to Azkaban. That was even worse than dying.

"Good. If you need anything, just say so." Harry knew he should have said something else. What was he supposed to say? _'Stay.'_ Harry just wanted to scream the lungs out of his chest.

"No. I'll be fine." Malfoy turned around again. He hadn't even looked at Harry. The man was probably glad to leave. Who wanted to stay with him anyway? People hated being around him. "_No one will ever love you."_ Besides, upon Malfoy's arrival here, Harry had said his stay would be temporary. He couldn't withdraw those words now, could he?

"Okay," Harry whispered in reply. He looked at Malfoy, who slowly started to walk away, his beautiful posture out of sync with the ugly building. Just when Harry was starting to lose the last trickle of hope, Malfoy turned around again, silver eyes clouded with sadness. Their eyes locked.

"I-" Malfoy stammered. Harry waited patiently for him to finish his sentence. Could it be? Would he voluntarily stay here, even though he wasn't fugitive anymore? "Take care." Malfoy turned away one last time, slowly disappearing in the hallway.

Harry looked down at his feet, tears starting to blur his vision. Why did he feel so bad? He should be happy that both Malfoy and Narcissa were alright. The thought of silver eyes and blonde eyelashes only increased the stinging ache in his chest. When Harry heard the door slam shut, he let go.

Tears streamed down his face, trying to grasp what was happening to him. Why did it bother him so much? Memories replayed in his mind, long arms wrapped around his chest tightly, the smell of Malfoy hanging around him. It was in the past now.

Malfoy was gone.

**To be continued…**


	8. Chapter 8: Hogwarts

**Hi guys! Thank you so much for the response on Chapter 7! I want to give a shout out to Vernieklein, for being yet another one of the loyal readers! I appreciate it so much ^_^**

**This is the next part! I hope you like where it's going. I have to admit it's the hardest one I've written so far, but well - we're getting there. c:**

**Just enjoy!**

Chapter 8  
Hogwarts

Harry was sitting at the High Table in the Great Hall, observing the students. They were talking animatedly to one another, having forgotten all about last year. Last year, Harry Potter had defeated You Know Who. Last year, Harry Potter had sacrificed his friends for all the lives out here. He sighed, shoving his food around his plate. The food was delicious, no doubt about that. However, the way it magically appeared on those long tables, reminded Harry of Ron, who would dig in immediately, smearing the sauce and potatoes all over his face, as if he hadn't eaten for days. It reminded him of Hermione too, the way she had done a hunger strike for various week, only because the House-elves made the food, without being paid for it.

Merlin, it even reminded him of Fred and George, who'd shown him the marvels of the Hogwart's kitchen. Harry and Ron had always admired the way Fred and George managed to steal all the food from the kitchen. But in fact, it had been very easy, the elves practically shoved it in your mouth. But most of all, the food reminded him of Malfoy. For two entire months, the man had made him dinner, without complaining. Every single time, it was delicious. Not that the elves' food was worse, but the fact that he was just sitting there, between his colleagues made him reminisce.

Malfoy sitting across the small table, only a few feet away. He would neatly cut up his pieces before putting them into his delicate mouth. Merlin, Harry was completely losing his mind. Why was he thinking about the stupid blonde? He wasn't even here. Harry was where he wanted to be. At Hogwarts.

Even though the building contained lots of memories, Harry coped with it very well. It had been three months since Harry first started here, as a trainee. McGonagall saw to it that Harry did what he had to do, and a professional artist had thought him more about other ways to use magic in a creative way. It was fun to be honest. More fun that sitting at home. Alone.

Well, Harry couldn't complain. Just when Malfoy left, the school year almost started, so he hadn't been alone for too long. Now that Harry's internship was finally over, he was on his own. He did great, though. Harry could give himself that. The one thing haunting his dreams was that Malfoy had made all of this possible.

In the end, it was always Malfoy.

"-don't you think so too, Harry?" Harry shot up out of his reverie, looking at Neville while trying to figure out what he'd just asked.

"Sorry? What were you saying? I was miles away."

"I said: 'It's awesome that we went to school together and now are both teachers. Who would have thought?"

"I certainly wouldn't. I'd had expected myself to be a Quidditch-teacher rather than an Arts-teacher. I mean, seriously?"

"Everyone is so excited about it. The students as well. A first years student came up to me last week, saying that she would finally be able to draw one of her favorite plants."

"And what's that? A venomous Tentacula?" Harry remarked.

"No, in fact it's Mandrakes. Even though Mandrakes are mostly admired for their roots, the plant is very beautiful when it blossoms." Neville didn't notice Harry's sarcasm. He'd always been so naïve.

"Oh," Harry replied. He really appreciated that Neville was kind enough to talk to him, but he really didn't feel like talking about plants. Nor about students. The only thing he could think about was how different Hogwarts was when he was still sitting at the House tables. He would observe the Slytherin table, trying to figure out whether Malfoy was up to no good, or whether he'd gotten sweets from his mother. Harry smiled at the memory. How immature he'd been then. Always trying to find a way to snatch Malfoy doing something bad.

"Would you excuse me Neville? I still have some classes to prepare." Harry got up from the chair, gave McGonagall a polite nod and made his way across the Great Hall. He could see some students stare at him. It was something people never stopped doing. Harry felt like punching something. He wasn't a bloody animal at the Zoo! Merlin, he was their teacher! They should pay attention to him in class, not the Great Hall.

Harry was glad to be out the tumult. There were only a few students out and Harry walked back to his classroom. In a year's time, people had done wonders around here. Everything had been rebuilt in such little time. When Harry came to think of it, it wasn't at all that difficult. They'd probably just used magic. However, when the castle had been destroyed, Harry'd been torn apart by it. It was worse than finding out Santa didn't exist. In fact, if you grew up with the Dursleys, you automatically knew Santa didn't exist. Everything about the building had been so solid. No one would have ever thought there would only be bricks leftover. Just like Harry had never imagined Dumbledore to pass away. How foolish of him to believe the man would live forever.

Luckily for Harry, Hagrid had invited him for tea not long after he'd first arrived here. It was very difficult for Harry to take the first step. He'd always visited Hagrid with Ron and Hermione and going alone just felt wrong. However, Hagrid understood his reluctance and had just sent him a note to invite him for tea and rock cakes, which Harry had politely refused, the rock cakes, that is. Harry had to admit it had been good to talk to Hagrid. Even though memories of how they sometimes snuck out to see Hagrid haunted his mind, talking to the man was just the kind of thing he needed. Hagrid was the first person in the Wizard World he had met, and he was glad that he was still alive. Thinking about how they had set his hut fire before capturing him made Harry's hard contract. Losing Hagrid would have been as unbearable as losing Ron or Hermione.

Of course, Hagrid had started talking about Ron and Hermione. The tears had appeared in his small dark eyes, big tears soon splashing on his beard. Harry had fought his own tears away, but it had been no use. Mourning for the dead was not something to be ashamed of, Hagrid had told him. He'd also said that he would get used to Hogwarts again, eventually. Harry just needed to give it some time. Even though Harry didn't believe everything could go back to the way it was before, it had done wonders to be in the new-built hut.

Harry turned around the corner into the hallway that led to his room and froze. From across the corridor, a tall, blonde man was striding towards him, taking big steps. Harry gulped, not certain if this was a daydream or not. He'd had them more often, you know. Dreams where Malfoy came and dragged him back home. They were better than the nightmares, so Harry didn't complain.

The handsome blonde, however, came awfully close. Harry started to back away, not sure how to react to the greedy steps Malfoy was taking.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Harry questioned. His mouth was very dry, although he had no idea why. Harry hit the cold stone wall with his back, trapped.

"Now that you've got your life back, you don't need me anymore? Is that it? Is this were it all ends?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. Malfoy stopped about three inches in front of him, leaving him just enough room to breathe. Malfoy's scent penetrated his nose, overwhelming him with memories.

"You know bloody well what I'm talking about, Potter! You just disappear out of my life, and leave me to _rot _at the Manor, is that it?" To say Malfoy was upset was an understatement.

"No, I – you wanted to leave, didn't you?" Harry brought out. He was still unsure whether this was a dream or not, although the anger and excitement pulsing through his body were very vivid.

"I didn't, Potter. You were never one to read body language, were you?" The fact that Malfoy's tall body was hovering over him, made Harry seriously doubt he could not read body language.

"I – er… Merlin, Malfoy. What has gotten into you? How did you get here?" Harry tried to avoid the real question.

"I used the _door_," Malfoy sneered. The way his lip curled up three inches from his nose, made Harry want to reach out and place a kiss on them, but he quickly erased that thought from his mind. He needed to stay focused on the snorting Slytherin.

"That's not what I meant. But how about, 'Hi, how are you? I'm good, how are you? Great, just great'. Or have you forgotten about that part?"

"I'm not here to chit-chat. You can do that with your Hogwart's-friends. I'm here for the real business, Potter. I'm done sitting around, waiting for you to stop by." Malfoy's hot breath fell on Harry's face as the blonde spoke.

"I was the one who said you could come anytime you want." Harry quircked an eyebrow, trying to make a point when he knew he didn't have one. He had wanted Malfoy to stay.

"I DID! But you weren't exactly there, Potter, were you? No! You were _here_!" Harry'd never seen Malfoy so furious before, and he would be lying to himself if he said the blonde didn't intimidate him. However, Harry didn't let it show, he just retorted.

"You were the one who got me this job! What do you expect, that I take the Hogwarts Express every single day to go home?" A victorious feeling spread through Harry's chest, being proud for bringing up a strong statement.

"For Salazar's sake, Potter! You're a wizard! Only the _students _stay here all year because they can't use magic or apparate," Malfoy replied, throwing his hands in the air.

"You can't apparate in Hogwarts, moron. Everyone knows that."

"Nice one Potter. You can apparate in Hogsmeade. It's not that far away, is it?" The more Malfoy talked, the more Harry felt like a complete idiot.

"Okay, okay. I just didn't feel the need to go home to be alone, Malfoy. What's your problem? You're the one who only stayed with me until you found something new, because otherwise Aurors would arrest you."

"And you're the one who only let me stay out of pity, because I had no place else to go! It was only normal that when you said I had to go to the Manor, I didn't question your words. I thought you didn't want me there."

Harry froze and looked at Malfoy. Did Malfoy _want _to stay? They'd been shouting very loud, and some students popped their head around the corner to see who was fighting.

"Get lost, or I'll hex you!" Malfoy scolded. The two ravenclaws quickly disappeared, and Malfoy focused on Harry again. Both men were breathing heavily, out of breath from shouting at one another. "I don't get it anymore Potter. I have no idea what in the world you think of me, but I'm done playing games and pretending." With those words, Malfoy leaned forward, capturing Harry's lips. Harry wanted to struggle, wanted to push the man away, but his body stopped functioning. The only thing he could do, was let Malfoy push him against the wall, and kiss the blonde back.

The kiss was completely different from their first kiss. It was needy, rough and urgent. Malfoy bit his lips, and Harry couldn't help but moan. The cold wall contrasted with Malfoy's warm body. The touch of his large hands around Harry's waist, sent shivers down his spine, warming up his entire body. Harry leaned forward when they broke apart, trying to steal another kiss from the blonde.

Their lips parted, Malfoy's soft tongue touching the tip of Harry's. Harry buried his hands into Malfoy's soft locks, enjoying the way it contrasted with his rough hands. His hands travelled down Malfoys neck, caressing the skin as he went along. Malfoy leaned closer against Harry. Harry massaged Malfoy's shoulders, while Slytherin played with Harry's tongue, sending an erotic feeling down Harry's spine . Malfoy's slender fingers slipped underneath Harry shirt, earning another moan. Both men broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Stop! Stop, just- stop," Harry breathed, pushing Malfoy further away from him. Grey eyes observed him frowningly, confusion written all over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"What are we doing?" Harry exclaimed, frustration boiling in his chest. They were at Hogwarts. They were kissing against the cold, thick walls of the Hogwarts Castle on the second floor. Merlin, was Harry losing his mind?

"What does it look like, Potter?" Malfoy noted dryly. "Seriously, how did they ever name you the Boy Who Lived? You don't even know what we're doing right now!"

"I KNOW what we're doing right now," Harry retorted, frustration making room for anger.

"Then why did you ask?"

"We're not supposed to do that, Malfoy. Don't you get it?" Harry exclaimed. The anger mingled with despair, as the facts of what they'd just done weighed down on Harry's shoulders.

"Says who? Explain it to me, Potter, because I'm not following. I come all the way to this bloody castle, filled with memories and nightmares of my previous life, to see you and then you say we're not supposed to do that?" Malfoy sounded angry, but Harry read disappointment and sadness in his eyes. Malfoy was tormented by nightmares about Hogwarts as well, and Harry could fully understand it. However, he couldn't understand that Malfoy came back here for _him. _There was nothing special about. He was nobody.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry threw his hands in the air. "I'm not good at this, Malfoy. I warned you. Don't try to blame it on me now."

"Fine. Slow down. Let's go into your room." Harry nodded, stepping away from the wall and leading the way to his classroom and into the neighboring personal study. He motioned Malfoy to sit down at the opposite side of the desk, and took his own seat. Malfoy grabbed the chair and positioned it next to Harry's, looking at him expectantly, only ten inches from Harry's face.

"I think I'm in love with you, Potter." Harry looked at Malfoy's lips, paralyzed by the words that had just escaped. In love? Malfoy? How could this possibly be true? Was he dreaming? Of course not, he couldn't be dreaming. The Malfoy in his dreams would never declare his love to him, that would just mean he wanted him to do that. Did he want him to? Harry was trying to entangle himself from his different thoughts when Malfoy spoke again.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"What do I have to say?" Harry replied. Because, honestly he didn't know. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he didn't know which ones were appropriate to respond to such a delicate announcement.

"How do you feel about me?"

"I'm not gay, Malfoy. I told you that before," Harry said, shaking his head. This should have been a quiet, lazy evening. Malfoy always had to screw everything up. Why did he always have to make things difficult for him?

"You're not gay? You kissed a _guy. _Twice. How's it that you're not gay." Sarcasm dripped off Malfoy's voice, clearly not happy with Harry's reply. Harry opened his mouth several times, trying to come up with a come back. He frowned before replying.

"Kissing someone doesn't necessarily signify as being gay, Malfoy," he fired back, trying to make a point, that clearly didn't make any sense at all.

"If you like it, and _want _it, then you're possibly in love with that person. You liked it Potter. Don't lie to me. If you' re not going to say it, then I will." This only made Harry's temper rise.

"I don't know what your problem is, Malfoy. I'm not into you. Okay? Thanks for being honest with me and telling me how you feel, but it's not mutual." Malfoy's silver gaze froze, when he realized what Harry was saying.

"You're just full of bullshit, Potter you know that!" he snapped, getting off his chair. "How can you say that, when you – Never mind. I get it, you see. How could the wonderful Golden Boy ever lower himself to a Death Eater like me, right?" Harry didn't know how he had gotten himself in this mess. All he had wanted was to return to Grimmauld place with Malfoy for a bit. Just like it was before. However, he couldn't take back what he had said. He had to go through with it, he couldn't back down now.

"That's not it Malfoy, and you bloody know it. I'm not obliged to feel the same way! Just leave me alone and get the hell out of here. I never asked you to come." Harry turned away from the blonde, not wanting to see the pained expression on his face. Through the years at Hogwarts, all Harry had wanted to do was to hurt the Slytherin, make him pay for calling everyone names. But now that he'd actually touched, and wrecked Malfoy's feelings, Harry felt sorry. He'd felt sorry from the moment he'd said those words. He hadn't meant it.

"I thought we dealt with this already. But don't worry Potter. I'm hearing you just fine. If you don't want me to come anymore, you should have just said so. I already figured you would rather have me gone, but there was just this tiny sparkle of hope that there was something connecting us. Forgive me my mistakes. I'm only human." Harry couldn't take this any longer. He wanted to run back to the taller man, hugging him close and kissing him on those pink lips. He wanted to scream he was sorry, to say he'd only wanted the blonde to be around again. But he couldn't. He was trapped inside his own little lie, and couldn't crawl back.

"Don't be a bloody fool, Malfoy." Harry's hands were shaking. He was trying desperately not to let his tears through. That would just make him weak_. "You're weak, Harry Potter. Weak. No one will ever love you." _Harry shook his head. Voldemort's voice kept entering his mind. He would have thought after a full year, it would have faded away, but Harry was still tormented by nightmares. Occasionally replaced by dreams about Malfoy, but that would be over now. He'd just scared the man away.

"Look who's talking. I don't know why you're doing this, Potter, but it seems to me that you're only trying to cover up your own emotions. I opened up to you and all you do is punch me in the face. And you know what? It hurt!" Harry's eyebrows rose, upon hearing Malfoy make that confession. "You heard me very well , Potter. You hurt me."

"I didn't mean to," Harry whispered. He could no longer fight back the tears, and turned around, hiding his face from the blonde.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I... I just wanted to say that mother has invited you. She asked you to come over on Saturday. You don't have classes then. She expects you at 10 sharp." With those words, Malfoy got up and left the room, leaving only an empty chair and a trace of his fragrance behind.

Harry buried his head in his hands. How had this happened? How was he supposed to face the mother of the man whose heart he'd just broken? Involuntarily. Harry already dreaded Saturday. Why was he so stupid? Why did he always get trapped in his own emotions? Wasn't there anything he could do right?

_Anything?_

Tears streamed down Harry's face. The image of the hurt expression in Malfoy's eyes was burned on his retina. No. Harry wanted someone to blame but he had caused his own misery. The realization only increased his despair, tears blurring his vision.

Malfoy would never want to talk to him again. If there had been hope to begin with, it was definitely gone now. For good.

* * *

Harry walked up to the big gate, giving entrance to the Malfoy Manor. He'd preferred using the fireplace, but on the other hand, Harry found it a bit rude to barge into someone's living room like that.

The Gate opened, and Harry walked up the driveway. It vaguely reminded him of that time the Snatchers had caught them, but Harry had been utterly confused then, and oblivious to the great amount of beauty present. Narcissa obviously liked roses. Even though winter was coming near and the garden was a bit bare, he could imagine the grass being nicely mowed, and various colors of roses blooming widely on their rosebushes.

When Harry made it to the front door, Malfoy waited for him. Instantly, Harry felt a blush creep over his cheeks, down to his chest. He wasn't prepared for this. The tall blonde was wearing a pair of white jeans, combined with a light grey blouse and a white cashmere cardigan. The outfit itself would already be able to kill him within seconds.

"Come in, Potter," Malfoy greeted, his tone distant and cold. Harry knew this was going to happen. The blonde didn't even look at him. The thought disappointed Harry a little, since he'd put on something nice. He was wearing his favourite pair of dark blue jeans combined with his tight fitting green T-shirt. Malfoy closed the door and led him through the Manor. Still, he couldn't stand the way Malfoy talked to him. He wanted to push him against the cream colored wall in the hall, but he didn't. He was here for Narcissa. He shouldn't disappoint her.

Malfoy led him to what seemed like a sitting room. This only made Harry wonder how big the Manor actually was. Narcissa sat on one end of a rectangular oak table, and got up to welcome him.

"Hello, Harry Potter. I am so glad to have you." The woman's beautiful blonde hair was put up, the strands escaping the clip curled softly. It was a huge difference with the woman he'd seen at the hearing. Her usually cold blue eyes shone brightly.

"Hi, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry replied. "I'm happy to be here." He sat down on the chair she offered him, and Malfoy took the seat right in front of him.

"I'm truly grateful for what you've done for Draco and I. I'm sure you can relate to the terror we've been through. You're the one who made this possible." She looked around her, a satisfied tug around her thin lips and smiled.

"Please, Mrs. Malfoy. I only did what I had to do. You saved me once, and it would have been inhuman for not returning the favor. Every person with his heart in the right place and a logic mind would have done that."

"Your mind is not quite in the right place, is it Potter?" Malfoy sneered. Harry's eyes shot up, meeting steel grey ones.

"As a matter of fact, it is. I'm doing very good."

"So I've heard. You're teaching at Hogwarts, aren't you? It's a great school. Lucius always wanted Draco to go to Durmstrang, but I insisted on him going to Hogwarts. I'm very happy for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please call me Narcissa. Draco will take care of the food. Would you like something to drink? Some wine?"

"No, I've stopped drinking a long time ago," Harry looked briefly at Malfoy, who was gazing at him with an intense look in his eyes. "Some lemonade please."

"Coming up," Malfoy replied, swiftly standing up and walking to the kitchen. Harry followed the man with his gaze. His tiny bum swayed softly when walking away. It stood out perfectly in the white jeans, making Harry's fingers itch to touch it. Why did the bloody fool go to the kitchen? He could have just conjured the drinks.

"Don't mind Draco, Harry. He's been a bit angry this week. I don't know why, but he'll turn around."

"Oh," Harry replied. He couldn't tell Narcissa that Malfoy was pissed because Harry had told him as bold and as brass that he didn't love him. His mind was constantly replaying the scene at Hogwarts, and Harry still hated himself for what he'd said. He hadn't meant it. But he couldn't bring himself to take it back.

"Here you go. Lemonade and wine." Malfoy placed a glass of fruit juice in front of his own plate, and stared at Harry again. The latter began to feel uncomfortable.

"Thanks, Draco, love." Narcissa smiled fondly at her boy, while Harry took a sip.

"I was at your door, the other day. You weren't there." It took a few seconds before Harry realized Malfoy was talking to him.

"I was at Hogwarts."

"So you're still not returning home?" Harry rolled his eyes. Why was it any of Malfoy's business? Why did he come to his house? All Harry had done was hurt the man. He certainly wouldn't want to visit someone who'd hurt his feelings.

"To what? An empty house where my dead godfather used to live?" Harry fired back. He didn't feel like being in Grimmauld place. Not because he would be alone, he was alone at Hogwarts as well, but because the house reminded him of the time when Draco filled the dim place with delicious smells and encouraged him to start living again.

"Whatever Potter." Malfoy groused. When both men fell silent again, Narcissa started to talk. Malfoy got up to make dinner, while Harry and Narcissa continued to chat.

To be honest, Harry was having a good time. Occasionally, he even forgot Malfoy was pissed and forgot that he had to return home at some point. He never would have guessed Narcissa was so talkative. She asked about Hogwarts, about Malfoy's stay with him and talked about Draco growing up.

"Draco was always very obsessed over the stories about the Boy Who Lived. Before nighttime, I would tell him the same story, over and over again, about how your mother sacrificed herself for love. And how that love made you survive even the strongest killing curse. He read the books written about you, he always hoped he would meet you sometime."

"I didn't know," Harry replied, feeling embarrassed. He didn't know what attitude to give himself. He was very convinced Malfoy wouldn't like him to hear what Narcissa was telling him, but Harry craved for more.

"What was Malfoy like, when growing up?"

"He was a very silent child. Always well behaved, always neat. He was always busy with something, especially Quidditch and Potion making. When he was five, he had tried to make a Forgetfullness Potion, because that was an easy one to make. Lucius had fetched him all the ingredients, but it was due to fail. He didn't want anyone to help, and the whole brew exploded in his face. He was covered in boiling potion from tip to toe. Luckily, Lucius quickly got rid of it. The poor thing had to wear Burn-Healing paste for three days straight. It was truly funny to see, his small face covered in orange paste." Harry laughed at Narcissa's anecdote. He could imagine the small Malfoy, desperate to make a Potion which was too difficult for him.

"He's always persistant, isn't he," Harry smiled. "Is he taking Potion's classes now? He once told me he wanted to become a Potionmaker for Apothecaries."

"Yes, he has, as a matter of fact. It's a refresher course, since he completed his O.W.L's for Potions. However, he missed the N.E.W.T's, so that's why he has to retrain." Narcissa seemed very happy, talking about her son. Harry enjoyed her stories, but couldn't help but flash back to what he'd said.

Being in the company of Narcissa made guilt boil up in his chest. Why had he been so rude? Malfoy shouldn't pay for Harry not being able to face his emotions. All he could do was think about the blonde. When he stopped his train of thought, it just continued where it had left of a couple of minutes later. So why had he been so scared?

Maybe it was the strange confession. Maybe it was the way Malfoy had thrown it in his face. Or maybe Harry was just scared to start caring about someone again. Because, if he would start loving again, that love could be taken away. Just like Ron. Hermione. He needed to protect his heart from another downfall. He couldn't let Malfoy in. Harry suddenly realised they had fallen silent. He didn't want their conversation to end, so he quickly came up with another question.

"When did he find out his magic?"

"Oh, Draco already had magic powers from a very young age. There was this one time he was playing outside, and he destroyed some of my rose bushes. Lucius was angry and sent him to his room. The poor thing probably felt so guilty that overnight, he'd made the entire garden grow. When I woke up that morning, all the roses were blooming beautifully. I didn't know what I saw. The day before they'd only been very small, but they were huge. Then I realized Draco had done it. Without knowing it."

"That's wonderfull. I never did something so special. Well, I once made all my hair grow back when Dudley had cut it. I didn't know how I did that, to be honest."

"Children don't know how they do it. They have the magic in their fingers, but need to learn how to control it. With Draco, it got bad sometimes. I had read that, if your child causes too many unwanted actions, you should teach them how to use a wand. Lucius didn't approve of children's wands, so I lent him mine. I tried to teach him Wingardium Leviosa, but he was only five at that time. He was too young to learn any spell. Being the enthusiastic child he was, he tried and tried and tried. He even practiced over dinner that day. And just when Dobby had served the food and we were all starting to eat, Lucius' plate started floating, rapidly going up and hit him in the face. The champignon sauce was splashed all over his face. You can imagine how furious my husband was. Draco and I laughed about it in the end." Harry listened to the woman in awe. He never thought about Malfoy as a child, but he adored the stories she was telling him. He wished he'd grown up in a Wizard family. That would have been a real adventure.

"We had a lot of accidents. The first time Draco rode a broom, he flew straight through the window in the living room, scattering the glass everywhere. I didn't care about the window, though. I was so worried he was hurt. He only had a few scratches." Narcissa's face was lit up by a white smile. Harry never saw her smile before. It looked good on her. They were interrupted by Malfoy's arrival.

The blonde served dinner, unaware of the stories his mother had shared with Harry. The food was delicious, it always was when Draco was preparing it, but Harry suspected him to make an extra effort to show off. Unfortunately for Harry, it worked. He was impressed by Malfoy's cooking skills, he'd always been.

This brought Harry back to Hogwarts again. All he wanted Malfoy to do was kiss him again. His troubles seemed harmless when Malfoy's lips were on his. However, Harry had screwed it up. He screwed everything up. He couldn't even save Hermione and Ron from Voldemort.

When the thought settled in his head, a wave of nausea boiled up in his stomach, spreading through his veins. The unpleasant feeling evolved to an appalling sickness. Harry's breathing became irregular, his hands were clammy and he was sweating heavily. Just as he thought he was going to faint, the familiar, sharp stab pierced his heart in two, making Harry bend over.

Narcissa, who'd witnessed the whole scene was standing beside him, trying to help out. "Are you okay, Harry? Draco! Draco, something's wrong with Harry!" she called out. Harry could hardly hear her voice. His eardrums were pounding, a headache coming up. He felt cold long fingers on his cheeks, but couldn't get himself to look at who was standing in front of him. His vision was blurry, black stars appeared before his eyes.

* * *

When Harry woke up again, he found himself lying in what seemed like the living room. Malfoy was sitting a few feet away from him, reading a Potion's book.

"Are you awake?" He asked. Stupid question. He could see very well for himself that Harry was awake. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm better now."

"I hope it wasn't the food," Malfoy noted thoughtfully.

"It wasn't. At first I just became nauseous, but then I felt the stab again," Harry explained. He was glad that Malfoy was finally acting normal, even though he knew it was his fault.

"That time when I said Voldemort's name?" As if there was still a hex on the name, Harry's pulse sped up, blood pumping in his ears. His muscles cramped and Harry curled up in a ball trying to stop the agony. When he thought it couldn't get worse, the stinging pain nearly made his chest split open. Then it was over. Harry opened his eyes, noticing that tears had been streaming down his face. He didn't know what was happening, but right now, he could care less. All he wanted was the pain to stop.

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry Potter. Are you okay again?" Malfoy was sitting next to him on the sofa, an arm resting on Harry's biceps.

"I'm good. Don't worry. Just, don't say that name again. It triggers something," Harry breathed.

"I won't," Malfoy responded. His voice was soft, and yet again it surprised Harry how nice the blonde could be.

"I'd better go. I'm feeling tired because of the seizures. Thanks for having me, Malfoy."

"Don't get up. You're still very pale. I'll get you some chocolate, that'll help."

"Don't," Harry started, but Malfoy threw him a look that didn't tolerate protest. Harry sat back in the soft couch, thinking about today. He'd had so much fun talking to Narcissa, but he was feeling a lot calmer now that he and Malfoy were alone. It was as if his entire being had been waiting for this moment. Malfoy returned, and Harry looked up, smiling at him.

"Why are you so smily? I'm still pissed, Potter."

"Whatever, Malfoy. I'm just – nothing." He was about to say _'happy to see you' _but he realized that would only make Malfoy angrier. He took the chocolate and took a large bite. The candy felt hot and creamy in his mouth, and he already felt better. It reminded him of that time when Remus had offered him the chocolate, after the Dementor had searched the Hogwarts Express. The tiny curl around his mouth faded when the image of a dead Remus and Tonks lying hand in hand in the Great Hall flashed, the thought smashing the good memory into tiny pieces.

Ever since Malfoy moved out, Harry was doing worse. Every time he was alone, memories started haunting his mind, the good ones crushed by the nightmare that followed. He couldn't control it. It started to consume him entirely, and Harry feared of becoming the nobody he'd been again. The only thing he knew was that he needed to hold on to Malfoy.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Malfoy pretended not to be listening. Clearly, he wasn't going to make it easy on Harry.

"I shouldn't have said those things, Malfoy. I didn't want you to move back in the Manor. I liked being around you. I – Merlin – I don't know how I feel about all of this. The only thing I know for sure is that I want to be around you," Harry's words weren't louder than a whisper. His head was spinning from the effort, and he just hoped it would be good enough.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head or something?" Malfoy questioned, an indefinable look in his grey orbs. Harry bit his lips. He couldn't make this right. Nothing he would say could ever take back the words he'd said.

"I didn't mean what I said in the classroom. I was confused by... you know... what you said. Honestly. I didn't see it coming. I... I just want you around me," Harry confessed. The sentences came out difficultly. He stammered over his words and looked at his feet. Malfoy sat down next to him. He placed a hand on Harry's knee, squeezing it softly. Harry leaned closer, resting his head against the blonde's shoulder.

Malfoy placed a kiss on top of his head, engulfing him in a tight hug. Harry closed his eyes, and the world momentarily stopped moving.

"I'll get you home," Malfoy whispered, picking up the Boy Who Lived. He walked out the door, carrying the raven-haired man before disapparating outside the gate.

**To be continued…**


	9. Chapter 9: Love me

**Hi!Hi! I decided to post this chapter now, because I want to work on chapter 10 tomorrow. I really need to hurry up because otherwise I won't have it finished by next week! :S I'm soo sorry! I'll have chapter 10 finished. I promise!**

**I also decided to change the summary, because my friend read it and she said it was too depressing, compared to what actually happens in the story. I figure the reason why it doesn't get a lot of views is because Ron and Hermione died. Man, I should've kept them alive! (just kidding, it would have spoiled the story) It's just so sad that a lot of people have these presumptions…**

**Not complaining though! Thanks to ALL the loyal readers, who review, Favorite, Follow! I'm so happy! Hope you like it… **

Chapter 9  
Love me

_"I don't know what your problem is, Malfoy. I'm not into you okay?" _The words resounded in Draco's mind while he was taking a shower. He had brought Potter home, since he'd had two seizures in a row. The Survivor was soundly asleep, and Draco had just put him in bed. He figured it wouldn't be nice not to be there when he woke up, so he'd decided to take a shower while waiting.

It wasn't a very good idea. The hot water was very relaxing, however, the fact that he was standing in the bathroom of a certain Harry Potter made it impossible to stop his mind from returning to that classroom.

_"I'm not obliged to feel the same way. Just leave me alone." _Bloody Scarhead. Could it possible be that he hadn't meant it? Could it be that he had just said all those hurtfull things because Potter couldn't face his own feelings? _"I didn't mean what I said in the classroom." _His excuses didn't weigh up to the insults. However, they were so easy to believe. The words tasted so sweet on his lips, sounded so soft- Draco shook his head. Ever since Potter had turned him down, he'd wished for the man to show up, every single minute of the four days. But Potter hadn't come. Draco had even dreamt about it - which made this very moment so surreal.

_"I was confused by what you said, honestly." _Draco's head was spinning. Did he have to forgive him? No excuse could make up to what Draco had heard. _"It's not mutual." _The words popped up in his head, breaking his heart in two, over again. A single tear mingled with the water streaming down his face. Draco didn't even know he was crying. He looked up at the tiled shower-wall, silver eyes clouded with desperation.

_"I just want you around me." _

As if Draco was hit by a curse, he suddenly felt the need to break something and smashed the soap dish. Instantly a wave of pain made its way up his arm, shaking him awake, blood started streaming from the cut he'd made in his hand. Draco huffed, clutching the wounded hand with his other one. However, the pain wasn't anything like the pain and despair he felt inside.

Draco breathed heavily, his heart thumping painfully hard against his chest unsteadily. As the adrenalin started to leave his body, he became more and more aware of the stinging pain in the palm of his hand. Draco leaned against the shower-wall, sighing heavily. He was lucky not to have his wand within reach, otherwise he could have easily blown up the whole bathroom.

A short knock made Draco look up.

"Malfoy? Are you okay in there?" Potter's voice sounded muffled, as if he was trying to speak through the key hole.

"I'm fine," Draco replied. He took a fresh towel and wrapped it around his waist, before grabbing his wand off the washbasin. "Reparo," he whispered before unlocking the door.

"It's all yours," Draco invited, waving his hand to the bathroom. Unfortunately for Draco, it was his wounded hand.

"What's wrong with your hand? Did you hurt yourself?" Why did the man had to be so observant now? He was so clueless at other times.

"I said I'm fine. Are you feeling better again?"

"Yeah, sure," Potter replied, still looking at Draco's hand. "Let me take care of that," he continued, gesturing Draco to follow him. The blonde sighed, knowing he didn't really have a choice. At least Potter was awake, so Draco would leave as soon as he could.

* * *

Harry quickly _accio'ed _bandage and some healing herbs to put on Malfoy's cut. He had no idea what the man had done, but he didn't dare to ask. Harry was still feeling guilty because of everything that had happened this week. He couldn't wait for Monday to come, to be back at Hogwarts and be back in the routine.

Well, that was only partly true. The other part of him craved to stay here with Malfoy, but he quickly banished the thought. As if Malfoy would want to be around him, after Harry had given him the cold shoulder followed by a lousy apology.

Harry put the healing herbs on the cut, and wrapped the bandage around it. "I could use a healing spell, but I suck at it. I don't want your hand to be deformed, so I'll just -" Harry trailed off, a half smile lighting up his face.

"What's so funny, Potter?" Malfoy asked. Harry just shrugged, continuing to neatly wrap the bandage around Malfoy's hand. His slender fingers felt hot against his hands. The spot where their fingers had met tingled and Harry quickly finished it up, before he completely became aroused.

"You know, you're a fool to reject me, Potter," Malfoy said. Harry looked up in silver eyes, and realized he was standing too close. If he would lean in just a little bit, their noses would touch.

"Why is that?" Harry whispered, moving in closer.

"I would have been the best thing you ever had," Malfoy replied, turning his face away. Disappointment engulfed Harry. He wanted to hit himself in the face for being so stupid. Malfoy was the only one who'd been around long enough to start to get through to him.

"I know," Harry whispered. "I'm grateful, you know?" At this Malfoy looked up, a questioning, but interested look on his face. "The time I spent with you was worth spending." Harry looked at his feet, realizing this came straight from his heart. "I thought that helping you and your mother made up for you helping me, so -"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You really _have_ to be a Gryffindor to believe that," Malfoy sneered. He jumped off the table, towering over Harry. Their bodies weren't touching, but they were standing close enough to. Harry could see the tiny blonde strands of hair covering Malfoy's torso and swallowed thickly. The Slytherin was only wearing a towel. His pants was way too tight right now.

"I er- don't know what to say." Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah, you get that a lot."

"You're not gonna make it easier, are you?"

"Are you kidding me? You did this to yourself, Potter. I'm only the bloody fool that was stupid enough to fall in love with you and think there was a tiny chance it would be mutual." Malfoy avoided Harry's eyes, turning his back to the Hero, but Harry had heard the tears in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He didn't know what to say to make it alright. He tried to swallow back his own tears, but it was useless. "I guess I was scared," Harry started. His voice cracked in the middle, because of the tears stinging in his throat. He looked at Malfloy's shoulders, reaching out a hand, but Malfoy retreated, taking a step forward.

"Don't touch me."

"Okay," Harry whispered. He was afraid that if he would speak louder, his voice was going to reveal his tears. "I was scared. Everyone I ever loved has been taken away. I didn't want anyone to love me anymore, because it's always been bad luck. And I... I didn't want to love anyone. I'm constantly afraid of losing. Even after losing everything, the feeling never fades." There was a short silence, before Harry continued.

"Then there was you. You come in here, turn everything around. You started to give me hope again. I never had expectations when it came to you. I least expected it - you of all people. I guess a part of me was pissed. You always hated me and my friends, and I just felt like hanging around with you was a disgrace to them. You insulted them - me, ... I'm messed up, I know. But what I'm really trying to say is that - I was scared. I said those things to scare you away - and Merlin it did - because I could not believe what you had said. Nobody loves me. Nobody in the world- I didn't get it. I was confused. Scared. Flattered. Happy. Sad. At that point, I finally understood what Hermione had said about Cho Chang in our fifth year. I never knew someone could feel all those emotions at the same time- Merlin, I'm just ranting here," Harry trailed off. Silence hung between them for a while. Harry could see Malfoy's shoulders shake, the irregular breathing giving away that he was crying.

"Screw the world, Malfoy. I want you to be with me. I want you in my house, I want you to sleep next to me. Please, just return," Harry exclaimed. He reached forward to Malfoy's shoulder, but didn't touch. It hovered over it, afraid that the touch would scare the blonde away even more. "I'm sorry."

"You're a damn fool, Potter," Malfoy replied, turning around. "You just made me go through hell all week, and now you make a confession like that? How can I be angry with you after this?" Harry could see the trail of his tears on his cheeks.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Harry questioned hopefully, quirking an eyebrow.

"NO! I want to be angry with you. You hurt me, Potter! Like nobody had ever done. You broke my heart, and now you're here, confessing and I - " Malfoy looked lost in his words. Fresh tears trickled down his porcelain skin. Seeing Malfoy cry was tragic, yet beautiful. Harry still remembered that time he'd seen him crying in the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror had made Harry stop in his tracks, paralyzed by the intense emotion. But then Malfoy had to spot him and turn around, causing Harry to make the biggest mistake of his life: the curse.

"I think I... would like to... want to – I.. lo- you know...might..love...you," Harry stammered.

"That's not even a sentence," Malfoy retorted. His sneering tone did not fit the tears, and Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Don't be choosy now." Harry stepped forward to Malfoy, his hands reaching out to Malfoy's blonde hair. The strands were as delicate as silk. Harry looked into teary grey eyes, wiping the tears off Malfoy's face. Harry leaned forward, capturing Malfoy's lips with his own. The taste of Malfoy made Harry's body react. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry's hips, holding him closer. Harry pushed Malfoy gently against the table, leaving his lips to lick his earlobe. Malfoy's breathing faltered, making Harry growl with satisfaction. He caught the man's lips again, kissing them tenderly. Then he took a step away.

"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked, opening his eyes in confusion.

"What do you say?" Harry breathed.

"To what?"

"Is your offer still open?"

"Who are you? What have you done to Potter?" Malfoy asked. But Harry could see the amusement on his face.

"Very funny, ferretface. Are we- you know-…"

"Boyfriends?" Harry's cheeks turned red at the mention, but he nodded nevertheless.

"Whatever you say, Potter. I still love you." Harry smiled brightly, his heart jumping up when he finally heard what he had been waiting for.

"iloveyoutoo," Harry mumbled, facing the kitchenfloor. He couldn't believe his luck.

"Thanks Potter," Malfoy replied, lifting up one corner of his mouth into a crooked grin. Harry could feel the heat radiating off his skin, blushing even more.

* * *

Draco softly knocked on Potters door, but he knew it was no use. The man was asleep, having a vivid and loud nightmare. His screams had been keeping Draco awake, and it drove him crazy.

Draco had decided to stay the night, to make sure Potter was alright again. He'd quickly called his mother to inform her, but she said she would be fine. Although Draco knew she was cleared of all charges and no one wanted to hurt her anymore, it was still difficult for him to leave her behind in the Manor all by herself. That place was full of memories about their family together, and even though his mother kept her head high, Draco knew she mourned.

Draco slowly opened Potter's door. It looked as if the man was having a struggle with his blanket at the moment. Draco stepped closer cautiously. He knew it was not a good idea to wake people in the middle of an intense nightmare. Potter was moaning loudly, burying his nails in the mattress. Draco could only imagine what he must be dreaming.

"Potter." It didn't work. Draco resisted the urge to shake the man awake, and called out again. "Potter! Wake up! You're having a nightmare." The former Gryffindor curled his back as if he was suddenly hit by a Cruciatus curse. Draco could see the waves of pain floating through his body and couldn't watch the scene any longer. He pushed Potter's body down, getting a hold of his shoulders. That didn't prevent the raven-haired man to smash him in the face with his arm. "Get up! Snap out of it, you bloody moron!" Draco screamed.

Potter slowly seemed to wake up, and Draco gave a sigh of relief. Another one of those hits and he would be knock out. His temple started to hurt. That would presumably end up in a black mark.

"What are you doing?" Potter mumbled, still half asleep.

"I'm trying to wake you, idiot. You were having a nightmare." Draco was happy the Survivor was finally awake.

"I didn't know that," Potter noted sarcastically.

"Do you want me to sleep here? I won't get any sleep if you start screaming again, so I might as well keep you company."

"Fine." Potter still seemed caught up in his own thoughts, probably replaying his dream in his head.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Draco asked. In the beginning, Potter did have a lot of nightmares, but they were less vivid. The one he had had now was the worst one, apart from that time Potter had deteriorated his entire bedroom.

"Don't know."

"You should see a Healer about this, Potter. I'm serious. Every time you say You Know Who's name, you're practically dying."

"I spent two months in St. Mungo's and they couldn't find what it was. As if they would have a clue now."Worries filled Draco's heart. He had to admit Potter was right. They hadn't found what it was then, so why would they now?

"It can't go on like this. You're hardly sleeping. You won't be able to keep teaching if you're a mess." Draco's head was starting to spin by all the thoughts running through his mind.

"Just drop it, Malfoy! Can't we do this another time? I'm exhausted." Draco sighed and sat down on the bed. He hesitated before pulling the covers back and joining Potter.

"I'm sorry. Come here." He hugged the man close, worry still nibbling in his stomach. "I just don't want anything bad happening to you." Potter's scent penetrated his nose, and for a moment, Draco couldn't believe this was actually happening. He could feel Potter's cold nose pressing against his collarbone, their chests touching. Potter's breathing slowed down, and it calmed Draco down as well. The former Gryffindor was slowly falling asleep. His black eyelashes trembled every now and then when Potter moved his eyes behind his eyelids. Draco just kept watching. Potter's mustache was growing back on his upper lip, and he could distinguish some forgotten hair on his jaw line as well.

Slowly, Draco's eyes were falling shut. However, the person lying close to him was still on his mind.

* * *

When Draco got home from his Potion's class, he immediately called out for his mother. She was in the kitchen, making dinner.

"Hi, love. How was your day?" Narcissa had a happy aura surrounding her, and it immediately lightened Draco's mood as well. It had been a tiring day.

"It was good. I'll be happy when the course is over. I can't wait to actually start working."

"I know, love. Oh, Harry stopped by today. He moved your stuff to his place." She kept looking at her work while she spoke. Draco blinked a few times, before the message sunk through.

"He WHAT?!"

"Calm down, Draco. Manners. He said you'd be going back to live with him."

"But I - Why? I haven't decided anything yet." Draco threw his hands in the air in frustration. That bloody Scarhead could be such an annoying brat sometimes. If he could lay his hands on him right now, he'd show him not to touch his things.

"You don't have to stay here for me, Draco. I'll be fine. You can live there if you want to. It's not like it's the other end of the world. I only want to see you happy." His mother's approval soothed Draco a bit.

"That doesn't give him the right to move my stuff," Draco mumbled. He left the kitchen and made his way upstairs. Who did Potter think he was? He didn't have any right to touch his stuff. Okay, fine, they were lovers now, but that didn't mean he could make decisions on his behalf!

When Draco entered his room, he saw that all his personal belongings were gone. His mother wasn't lying. Anger started to boil inside Draco and he rushed downstairs, grabbing Floo powder on his way to the chimney. "Wait until I see that git!"

"Draco! Language!" Narcissa corrected him from in the kitchen, but the green flames were already surrounding the blonde before he disappeared.

Draco stepped out at Potter's house, dusting off his robe. He hadn't even had the time to take a shower yet! Disgusting little busybody!

"Potter! Where are you?!"

"I'm in the shower." Draco heard Potter's deep voice calling. The sound sent shivers down his spine, but he had to focus. He was angry. And the Gryffindor had to pay.

"What do you think you were doing?" Draco smashed the door against the wall so hard, it returned halfway. The room was damp, from the hot water, and it quickly escaped through the open door.

"What?" Potter popped his head through the shower curtain, white shampoo smeared through his black hair. The soap trickled down his chest, but Draco couldn't see how it went down his leg, since the curtain was covering that part up.

"I said: What do you think you were doing! You have no right to move my stuff without asking me first!" His comeback wasn't as strong as the first one, because Potter was only standing a few feet away, completely naked.

"Oh, I thought you would like that. I want you to stay here again. Now that we're a couple, that's only normal right?" Potter smiled a sheepish smile, and Draco just wanted to smash it off his face.

"Yeah! But it's not normal to do it all behind my back."

"I wanted to surprise you. I was actually going to make you something for dinner as well. I asked Narcissa to keep you busy and then send you here, but- Well. You're here already."

"Of course I'm here! You bloody thief!"

"Just calm down, Malfoy! I was doing you a favor. I didn't have classes this afternoon, so I thought I'd move your stuff. I talked to Narcissa about it. She doesn't mind you're living with me. She'll be fine."

"BUT I MIND YOU TOUCHING MY STUFF!" Draco exploded. Why couldn't the moron get the clue?! There he was, shampoo covering his face, naked in the shower, and Draco couldn't help but getting aroused, while he had to be angry. And that made him all the more frustrated.

"Calm _down_, crazy. If you don't want to live here, just say so. But don't you ever think about sharing my bed if you don't live here."

"Share your bed to do what?" At this, Potter's head turned scarlet. He pulled the curtain close again and turned the water tab on.

"Just- stuff," Potter mumbled through the streaming water. Draco licked his lips. As if he could let Potter finish his shower moment without even - Draco pulled back the curtain and stepped under the shower. Potter nearly screamed like a girl, covering himself up with his hands.

"MALFOY! I was almost finished."

"That's why I had to hurry." Draco reached out to Potter's muscular body, holding him close. His clothes slowly became wet, but he could care less. He captured the man's lips for a kiss, and suddenly nothing else mattered. He didn't care about his stuff anymore. Nor about the fact that his mother would be alone. Potter was here.

They broke the kiss, and Draco observed the green-eyed Hero adoringly. "So, we're sharing beds tonight, are we?" he teased. He could feel Potter's erection through his own, wet pair of jeans, and he just wanted to see those beautiful green orbs get clouded with lust, like that day in the kitchen. Potter didn't have a chance to reply, as Draco leaned forward again. He licked Potter's lips, and the man willingly parted them. Their tongues touched, making sparks fly around the blonde. Draco moaned deeply, pushing Potter against the shower tiles.

Potter kissed him back urgently, his hands pulling up Draco's wet shirt. Draco lifted his arms and waited for Potter to pull the shirt over his head. Potter looked down at Draco's pants and swallowed. This only made Draco want him more.

"Open it," he urged, pushing his hips forward. Potter's eyes were fixed on the spot where his erection was, and Draco giggled. The Gryffindor slowly undid the button and the zipper, pulling the tight wet fabric down with difficulty. Draco's boxers came along, and Potter quickly tried to pull them up again, a red shade spreading in his neck.

"It's fine, you can take them off if you like." Draco had never seen Potter so nervous before, but it fitted him perfectly. He licked his red lips while observing Draco, unaware of the fact that he was very naked himself. Draco took his time to take in his muscular torso. His skin was slightly darker than Draco's and under his belly button, there was a tiny bush of black strands of hair leading down to Potter's crotch. Draco's eyes rested on his glory for a while, but then shot up to Potter's face again.

Draco hugged Potter close again, scratching his nails down Potter's back while biting on his lips. He followed the curve of his back until he reached Potter's tiny bottom. The hot water was still pouring down on them and Draco could see Potter's pupils were wide open with desire. Potter's hands slid down his chest to his abdomen. Potter hesitated there, but then continued, caressing Draco's pubic hair carefully. Draco closed his eyes in pleasure, enjoying the way Potter's rough hands felt on his skin. Draco caressed Potter's leg, making his way up to his inner thigh. He could feel how Potter tensed when he nearly reached his groin. He softly started to stroke Potter's erection, the man threw his head in his neck, revealing his beautiful throat. His head rested against the shower wall, and his hands reached out for Draco needingly.

Draco leaned over against Potter, continuing in steady movements. Potter's breathing faltered and he searched for Draco's lips disoriented. When their tongues touched, it was as if someone had lit up a firework. Potter's hands grabbed his crotch, making Draco moan in surprise. He broke the kiss, to catch his breath, breathing out in Potter's ear. His strong hands felt good on Draco's erection, and he didn't want the man to let go of it. Potter massaged in harmony to Draco's movements. Draco leaned against him, buried his face in Potter's neck and bit down in pleasure. Potter let out a deep growl, the breath tickling Draco's ear softly.

He'd never felt so in tune with anyone before. When he climaxed, he could feel Potter's body contract against his. They remained like that for a while, both catching their breaths.

"I'm definitely moving in," Draco huffed, smiling against Potter's black locks.

"Perfect," Potter replied. Draco looked at him. The emerald orbs gazed back at him, utter happiness written in them. All this time, he had wanted Potter to look at him like that. And now it was finally happening.

One thing was for sure. He would never let this man out of his sight. Ever again.

**To be continued...**


	10. Chapter 10: Christmas EVe

**NEXT PART! I'm so happy with the developments of this story! I can't believe we're at chapter 10 already. It's a nice long one, and I hope you will enjoy. Thanks yet again to those reviewing, favoriting and following. You are the ones that have made this story possible!**

**Enjoy ^_^ **

Chapter 10  
Christmas Eve

Harry descended the stairs in his boxers, hardly aware of his surroundings. He walked through the living room, intending to make his way to the kitchen, but halted when he noticed Malfoy. He was decorating the Christmastree, where ten presents in different wrappings were lying.

"What are you-?" Harry asked, but then smashed himself against the forehead. "I knew I had forgotten something!" Harry shook his head and walked into the kitchen.

"You can't have Christmas without a Christmas tree, Potter. How can you forget about that?"

"I was busy picking out presents. I had no clue what to buy. And I just forgot about the tree." He scratched his back, looking around to find something to eat.

"Clearly. So, what's in my present?" Malfoy sat down on the oposite side, a smirk plastered on his face. He accioed the eggs, baking on the stove and some toast from the cupboard. Harry's mouth was already getting watery.

"Not going to tell you. Yours was the most difficult. I got Hagrid a new puppy, since Fang is getting old and I really don't want him to be alone again. I bought Molly a bag of yarn in Spindlewarp's Wool Shop, so she can start knitting her new set of Christmas Sweaters for next year. There 's wool that lights up in the dark, and even some yarn that changes colour. I picked out an old-school Muggle radio for Arthur, you know he's so obsessive about Muggle stuff. And you know what we got your mom, since we picked it out together. I really can't wait to see them all. We have dinner with your mom at noon and then we're attending the party at Hogwarts, right? And the Weasley's expect us at eight pm?"

"Yes, that's correct. And Christmas Day is just for the two of us." Harry bit his lip in reply. He could only fantasize about what they would do tomorrow. Spending it with Malfoy was very exciting. Last Christmas had been so lonely. Frankly, the day had gone by with Harry not even knowing it had been Christmas. Everything had changed now, and he couldn't help but glance to the living room, where a nicely decorated tree was sat.

"It's going to be so weird to see them all again. I'm actually nervous." Malfoy was filling their cups with tea, then threw some toast in Harry's direction.

"Don't be. Their your friends. What should you be nervous for?" Malfoy replied, while putting a pile of eggs on Harry's plate. Harry shrugged in reply. His morning brain was still too tired to take it all in and he observed the blonde, a grin around the corner of his mouth.

"What are you smiling at?" Malfoy asked. One blonde eyebrow shot up as he looked at the Gryffindor questioningly.

"Nothing. It's just,... You're beautiful." Malfoy's cheeks turned into a soft shade of pink and Harry started eating. That man was too gorgeous.

* * *

Draco grabbed the toast to go with the eggs, still looking at Potter. The man was busy with his breakfast, being the adorable, goofy idiot he always was. He brought the eggs to his mouth with his fork, halfway the eggs fell off and then Potter sat there, with his mouth wide open, looking at the fallen eggs with this surprised look on his face that nearly made Draco giggle.

He couldn't wait for Potter to open his Christmas present.

"Let's get ready. Mother wouldn't like us to be late. Besides, if we want to stay at the Weasleys for some time we shouldn't arrive too late. I don't want to spend the entire night there," Draco said, after empting his plate. Potter was still eating, and it surprised Draco that the man didn't have obesity yet. He could eat like a horse.

"Why not? It's Christmas. You can stay up late," Potter babbled with a mouthfull. There was some egg on his chin, but it was too funny to point it out.

"Late, yes. But not all night. I want us to be sprightly tomorrow," Draco looked at his boyfriend with a mysterious smile, and instantly got the wanted reaction.

"Malfoy, stop teasing me! You'll have to wait until tomorrow for your present as well, smartguy."

"Not funny," Draco pouted. He waited for the Hero to finish breakfast before cleaning up the table. He really couldn't wait to get this day started. He looked forward to being in public again, and would be proud to say Potter was his boyfriend. He just wanted to see the Weasleys' faces. They would be golden.

* * *

Draco sat back and smiled, looking around the living room satisfiedly. Potter and his mother were sitting next to each other on the sofa, a large Christmastree was standing next to the crackling fireplace, engulfing them in warmth. He would never have guessed that in only one year so much could change.

His father had died, he'd almost lost his mother, he'd been on the run for the Aurors, had gotten Potter's attention and lost it again and now - everything was finally falling in place.

"The first time I saw you, Harry Potter, I couldn't believe how tiny you were. Even though I knew you were only eleven, and even though I raised Draco who'd always been your age, I genuinely thought you would have been taller." Narcissa was having a conversation with Potter. To be honest, those two were inseparable. They kept talking and talking. Occasionally, Draco joined in on the conversation, but right now, he preferred to listen.

"You saw me when I was eleven?" Potter asked dumbfounded. Draco still remembered the way Potter had burst through the gate at Perron 9 3/4 . It was impossible not to see him. Even though he'd been very casual, with his black hair and his small figure, Draco had immediately seen there was something different about him. Part of it was because his father had pointed out that he was the Boy Who Lived, but still there was _something_.

"Of course I saw you. Lucius knew you would attend Hogwarts as well, and he immediately felt your presence. It must have had something to do with He Who Must Not Be Named." Narcissa carefully avoided Voldemort's name, and Draco was grateful for that. The last thing he needed was for Potter to have another attack. He looked at the raven-haired man, watching how his delicate red lips formed his reply.

"Yeah, we were connected. I didn't know that then, I only found out in my fifth year. When Voldemort tried to kill me, he actually killed the horcrux inside of me. That's how I was able to defeat him."

"Curious," Narcissa replied, a small smile appearing on her beautiful face. Draco just kept sitting there, listening to his two loved ones, feeling more comfortable than he'd ever done in years.

"Malfoy are you okay? You've been so silent," Potter noticed. He stood up and came sitting next to Draco. He immediately was welcomed by the delicious scent of Potter's fragrance.

"I'm listening," he replied, bending over to pick up his cup of tea. "Do you want some more tea, Potter?" Their knees were touching, a thrilling wave making its way up his leg.

"No, I've had enough. I'm all stuffed up. Besides, we still need to be able to eat at Hogwarts. And I have this feeling that Molly won't let us leave before we tried everything she made. The food was delicious, Narcissa. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Don't forget to unwrap the presents. What time do you leave?"

"We'll leave at four o'clock. That'll be in time, right Potter?" Draco replied. He put his empty cup of tea down again, and sent the three cups to the kitchen with a swing of his wand.

"Yeah, I think so." Their eyes met, and instantly Draco felt captured in the moment. He automatically bent over to Potter, their lips touching. "I love you."

"I love you too, Malfoy."

"You two are just adorable," Narcissa smiled. Draco tried to glare at her because of her comment, but a large grin appeared on his face instead. She accioed the presents, placing them on two piles. There were two boxes for Potter, and one for Draco.

"Let's get started, shall we?" He took the first box and neatly opened the wrapping, while Potter was tearing the paper up. He looked at Potter as he revealed a Magical Drawing Kit. The small box contained a set of pencils, resizable erasers, potion veils and a book on 'How To Magically Devellop Your Pictures' in which the different techniques were mentioned, as well as how to add special effects. Potter's eyes were as big as saucers, and he looked from Narcissa to the present.

"It's... It's... Thank you so much!" The happiness radiated off the man. Draco caught himself smiling again, and quickly returened to his own present. It was a resizable Cauldron.

"Oh, thanks mother. It's going to be so useful. I've always wanted to buy one myself, but they're so expensive." Narcissa just smiled at the two men, who were both captivated by their presents. "You should open yours too," Draco noted. He got up form the sofa to hand over the envelop to his mother, giving her two kisses on each cheek. "Merry Christmas, mother."

"Merry Christmas, Draco." Potter got up as well, hesitating at first, but then leaned over to Narcissa, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Narcissa." That bloody Gryffindor was too adorable for his own good.

"Merry Christmas, Harry. I'm so happy you're here today." She started reading the voucher that was inside. "Congratulations, you are the owner of a McHavelock's Wizarding Headgear voucher, valued at 15 Galleons. Visit us at either High Street, Hogsmeade or Knockturn Alley, Diagon Alley to feast your eyes on our large assortment." As Narcissa read the words out loud, a smile crossed her features. "Thank you very much, sweethearts! You really shouldn't have." She put the voucher back in the enveloppe before placing it on the coffee table. She then hugged the two men together, before sitting back down. Draco took his seat again, and Potter plopped down next to him. The git needed to stop being so damn sexy, or he would ravish him right here, right now.

"You have yet another box to open," Narcissa noted politely. Draco's eyes shot up, stopping his mind from thinking about Potter in every possible way. The second box was a lot smaller, and even though it was placed in front of Potter, Draco could read both of their names on it.

"You can open it," he gestured to the Hero sitting next to him. Potter put aside his kit, looking like a four-year-old who had just gotten a large bag of sweets. Draco figured it had been some time since Potter had last shared presents with someone. The former Gryffindor took the small box, shredding the wrapping. It was a black jewlerybox, with signs resembling Runes on top of it. Potter clapped it open, revealing two silver rings. They had the same Rune signs carved into them.

"They're magical rings," Narcissa explained, but Draco already knew that. He had once read about them. "You're supposed to give them to the one you love, and both wear them. When one of the couple is in danger, the ring on the other's finger will start to burn."

"Does it really work?" Potter asked. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Of course, you moron." What a dumb question was that? Who would buy something that doesn't work?

"Well, in the Muggle world they often rip you off. They sell a lot of fakes," Potter explained, observing the pair of rings in his hands.

"Wizards can't be ripped off, Potter! They're wizards. If they don't like it, they transfigure it or whatever. You can make those rings yourself, but there are some very difficult spells. You have to know runes as well, and only use one hundred percent silver rings."

"Really?" Sometimes, Draco was still surprised about how little Potter actually knew.

"Put them on," Narcissa urged. Draco took one of the rings between his thumb and index finger. He took Potter's right hand and slid the ring over his middle finger. The touch of Potter's fingers felt very intimate.

"There you go."

"Shouldn't it go on the ring finger?"

"No. The middle finger signifies Gay Pride. Besides, it fits on your middle one." Draco just said the last part to make Potter shut up. He could as well have modified the size with his wand, but he just wanted Potter to wear it on his middle finger. Potter took the other one and gestured to Draco to give his hand. Potter's hand felt warm on his. When the man put the ring on, Draco could feel the magic make its way through his hand, straight to his chest. They were connected now.

"Come here," Draco whispered. Green eyes locked with his, and Potter's red lips slowly came closer. At the last second, he closed his eyelids, his beautiful dark eyelashes nearly touching glasses. His mouth still tasted like the camomille tea his mother had made for them, and Draco greedily licked his tongue. Butterflies were rushing through his stomach, descending to his abdomen.

He pushed Potter over against the back of the couch, taking his position on Potter's lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around the man, nails scratching his muscular back. Potter's fingers brushed through Draco's hair, and the blonde just wanted the man to touch him everywhere. His arousal was clearly visible in the tight cream coloured pants he was wearing. They broke the kiss, both breathing heavily. Draco looked at Potter. His emerald eyes were fixated on him, not able to look anywhere else but at his lover.

When Draco glanced down, he could see Potter's erection pressing againt the fabric of his jeans, and smiled. He leaned over to the Survivor's ear, whispering:"I want you so badly, right now." The raven haired man swallowed deeply, eyes filling with lust instantly.

Neither of them had seen Narcissa get up from the couch. Nor had they seen her smile at the duo, politely leaving the room to give them their space.

* * *

"Come on, we're late, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, rushing through the Entrance Gate. They had apparated on Hogsmeade, but it was quite a walk to finally reach the castle. It was nearly five o'clock, and Harry really didn't want to be late. Why had Malfoy kept them so busy at the Manor? Merlin. He had no manners.

"Relax, we still have time. The party will wait. Guests of Honor always are late in a classy way.

"Classy, my ass you horny ferret. You could've waited until tonight." Harry scolded, glaring at the blonde who was trying to keep up with him.

"As a matter of fact, four eyes, I couldn't. You enjoyed it as much as I did."

"Now shush," Harry reprimaned, before opening the door to the Great Hall. The Housetables were moved aside, and one table was standing in the middle of the room. There were about ten students and a few teachers, sitting co-mingled.

"And for the record. I'm just warming up for tonight," Malfoy whispered. Harry could curse him. McGonnagal instantly stood up to welcom them.

"Oh, Harry, please take your seat. Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall greeted. She had replaced her black hat for a party hat that probably had been offered to her by one of the students. Harry couldn't help but remenice to that time he'd spent Christmas alone at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been telling jokes all night, and McGonagall had replaced her hat as well that time. This place had always been his home. Until he lost his friends.

"Sorry for being late. We had another party to attend." McGonnagal pointed their seats

"Don't worry, Harry. We are glad you could make it." Harry sat down in a free spot, making room for Malfoy next to him. Hagrid was sitting in front of him, occupying space for three students at least.

"Hi, Harry," Hagrid greeted. He could see Hagrid already had drunk a couple of Firewhisky's as his cheeks were very red behind his dark brown beard. Grey strands were starting to spread, and Harry smiled at the man.

"Hi, Hagrid. I'm glad to see you. Did you get your present?" The half-giant heaved his glass, emptying the content in one draught.

"I did. Yeh shouldn't have done that, Harry. I decided to call him Angus." Harry shook his head, but was glad Hagrid liked the puppy.

"It's a girl, actually," Harry noted. He couldn't help but smile at Hagrid's weird choice of names. It was good to be here.

"I didn't know that. It's Angus now. Fang is already verry fond of him. Did yeh get my present yet? I included one for the young Malfoy as well." He pointed to Malfoy when he spoke, and Harry could see how Malfoy politely smiled at him. He presumable didn't know how to act around him, since he had always hated Hagrid during Hogwarts.

"No, we haven't been home all day. But we'll unpack them tomorrow." Harry slipped his hand underneath the table, to touch Malfoy's leg, squeezing it softly. He didn't want the man to feel uncomfortable and, the gesture was meant to soothe the former Slytherin. Their eyes met, and the corner of Malfoy's mouth lifted into a crooked grin.

"Thank you Hagrid. We really appreciate it," Malfoy responded.

"No probem, Malfoy," Hagrid waved. In his gesture he nearly knocked the student sitting next to him off the bench, but helped the first-year up just in time. "Yeh should stop by for tea when the classes start again, Harry. I would love to talk about this thing with Malfoy over here. Instantly, Harry turned as red as a beetroot.

"Hagrid. It's... fine..." Harry glanced over to Malfoy, unsure what to say.

"Don't talk about it here, Harry. We'll talk privately, in my hut." Hagrid talked so loud that the entire table could very well have heard it, but Harry decided not to mention it.

"I will." As if to save them from the weird conversation, food appeared on the plates. There was bacon and steak, lamb chops, pork chops, sausages, roast chicken, beef casserole, tripe and raost beef. The houseelves clearly had outdone themselves, and Harry started filling his plate with renewed energy. "Malfoy, could I have the chips please?"

"Of course, love," Malfoy replied. Harry blushed at the mention of the nickname, but took the chips nevertheless. "Could you pass me the baked potatoes, Potter?"

"Sure," Harry breathed, handing him over the potatoes. Draco's slender fingers brushed past his hand as he handed over the bowl of potatoes. Harry nearly flinched. He could feel the eyes of the neighbouring students on him, as they looked from Malfoy to their Arts teacher. Why did Malfoy have to do that? Who said he was ready for this?

"So, Harry, how are the arts classes going?" McGonnagal asked. She was sitting to seats away from Hagrid. She had this knowing look in her eyes while she observed the duo, resembling Dumbledore an awful lot.

"Really good, actually. The students are really enthusiastic. I think it's good for them to have a little break while still using their magic and skills."

"When Mr. Malfoy informed me about it, I immediately thought it was a great idea. They're all children and it's good for us to be open to changes. Oh, thank you for the chocolates, they are delicious."

"You're welcome."

"No problem, Professor McGonnagal," Malfoy replied.

"Oh, do call me Minerva. I'm not your professor anymore, Mr. Malfoy."

"Well, you can call me Draco, then," Malfoy replied. McGonnagal smiled in reply, the wrinkels near her eyes deepening. Harry felt proud as two of the people he cared about were having a civil conversation and started to get along.

"Enjoy your meals. You can stay as long as you want, but I assume the Weasleys are expecting you?"

"That's right. Thanks for having us, Minerva," Harry replied. Both men went back to their dishes.

"So, when are we going to be on first name basis?" Malfoy asked. Harry quircked an eyebrow.

"I don't know.I always called you Malfoy. It's like a habbit now." Harry brought some fries to his mouth. When finishing chewing he said: "You have a beautiful name though. It's a shame not to use it." Malfoy quircked an eyebrow, adn then smiled at him in surprise.

"Is that so? You can call me Draco if you like. It'd be an honour." The man cut off a tiny piece of a baked potatoe and put it in his delicate mouth.

"Then you can call me Harry."

"Great. Now mother won't have to come complaining that I always call you Potter. She kept asking me why over and over again until I nearly went nuts." He cut up his sausage as well, but didn't eat it just yet.

"She never mentioned it to me." Harry cut up his roast chicken while talking.

"Well, she always assumed you were the polite one, calling me by my last name because I always called you by your last name."

"She's right, I guess. You started this whole thing." Harry took garlicsauce to go with the chicken and then looked at Malfoy, who getting angry.

"Are you going to start a fight about this? Saint Potter! Look at you, trying to be the good guy. You hated me as much as I hated you. In fact, I tried being friends with you. You bluntly rejected me," Malfoy snapped, looking at him with furious grey eyes.

"You insulted my friend!" Harry retorted. Both men were talking loud, oblivious to the other people sitting around the table.

"You only just met him in the train. He couldn't possibly be your friend. Besides, his clothes _were _second hand and old. You can't deny that."

"That's not a reason for you to make fun of him. Besides, all _you _had to do was apologize for what you said. You dealt your own cards, Malfoy."

"So we're back to Malfoying me again?" Malfoy pulled a face, shoving his baked potatoes around in his plate.

"No. I - er... It's a habit. Sorry." Malfoy's hand massaged Harry's leg, and the Hero immediately looked back at his food. He felt a blush kreeping up his face, as Malfoy's hand made its way up. His fingers massaged his inner thigh, coming awfully close to his crotch.

"Stop it, Malfoy. You already had your way,"Harry whispered.

"Stop what?" the man asked, pretending to be innoscent. "I can' t get enough of you, Potter."

"You're Pottering me, Draco." Harry said. It was weird how fluently the name came off his lips, and Harry liked the sound of it. _Draco._

"I'm sorry, Harry, love. I'll pay attention to it," Malfoy teased. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're unbelievable." Harry continued eating his the roast chicken. He looked around the table satisfiedly, feeling completely at ease. It was curious, but he had never imagined himself being here. Being with Malfoy. Just as the thought settled in his head, he felt Malfoy nudge.

"Harry, look." Harry quircked an eyebrow, because the blonde had reminded to use his first name. He looked at Malfoy's hand, pointing above their heads. A beautiful mistletoe was blooming, growing larger and larger around them.

"Well," Harry swallowed. Hagrid and McGonnagal were looking at them with anticipation and one of the students exclaimed: "Look, it's a mistletoe. Kiss!"

"Can't we just ignore it?" Harry whispered to Malfoy. The blonde shook his head.

"Until you want to be trapped until New Years, I suggest you just kiss me."

"It's just superstision, Malfoy. Nobody actually believes that, right?" Harry was getting nervous because of the staring and just wished he could evaporate into thin air right now.

"It's magic, Potter. Just kiss me, you moron. What are you afraid of?" Malfoy already leaned in, but Harry backed away alarmedly.

"All those people are watching. They're my colleagues. My students."

"Let them watch. Just come here," Malfoy took a hold of Harry's shoulder firmly, the minute his lips touched Harry's, the former Gryffindor forgot about his surroundings. All that mattered was the way their lips fit together perfectly, the way Malfoy tasted in his mouth. Harry felt the need to scoot closer to the blonde, resting his hand on the man's shoulder. Malfoy's hand was on his leg, squeezing it softly before breaking their embrace.

Harry looked up. The misteltoe was flowering beautifully and then started to fade. Harry had a goofy smile on his lips, which were still tingling from the kiss. He then looked up to Hagrid, sitting in front of him. He had a smile on his face, and just kept observing the duo.

"I don't think there will be a lot to talk about over tea," Hagrid noted. Harry turned red again, but he just nodded.

"No, I don't think there will." He looked back at Malfoy, who was flashing a white row of teeth. "It speaks for itself." He returned Malfoy's smile, and shook his head. What had he been afraid of? That his friends wouldn't accept his relationship with Malfoy? They were all grown ups, and even if they didn't agree with it, Harry knew he wouldn't give up Malfoy for anyone.

He would never let the gorgeous blonde go.

* * *

When they arrived at the Burrow, Draco was already feeling tired. Perhaps he was partly scared to face the people Potter cared about, but it was getting late as well and he wanted to go home with the raven-haired man.

"Oh, come in, Harry dear, Draco, come in, come in," Mrs Weasley welcomed them with open arms.

"Sorry we're late. We just left Hogwarts," Harry explained.

"Oh, don't worry, love. You're right on time. Come in, we just started the main dish. Sit down, sit down, I'll fetch you something to drink." Mrs. Weasley spoke. Draco could see a dark blush on Potter's neck, and knew the Griffyndor must be as nervous as he was feeling right now. She pointed them two seats at a long table under a tent in the garden. Even though it was rather cold outside, the tent had the room temperature. There were eight people seated around the table. Ginny was talking to Fleur Delacour, who had lost her husband during the war. Charlie asked Angelina to give him the stew. Arthur looked up at their arrival, getting up to greet Potter.

"Harry, my boy. It's been too long since we last saw each other. How are you doing?" Mr. Weasley looked a lot older since he lost three sons, but Draco admired him for his courage. He knew Mr. Weasley must be reminded of his youngest son by seeing Potter, but you couldn't tell it from his face. His jovial gestures made you feel at home instantly.

"I'm great, Mr. Weasley. Thanks for having us." Draco sniggered at Potters comment. It was adorable how he said 'us' instead of me.

"No problem. You are always welcome here. We wanted to give you some time. It's been hard times. But we're getting there." There was a short flash of sadness in the balding man' eyes.

"It's Christmas, Arthur. There's no need to talk about that right now. Please take your seats. I'll get you some starters."

"Please, Mrs. Weasley, don't. We already had our share of food. We'll just have some main course, if that's okay," Harry quickly brought in. Draco couldn't deal with another plate of food. Seriously, Christmasses were never good for his diet.

"But I saved you two some. Oh, and Harry, pleas call me Molly. You make it all sound so formal." The chubby woman made her way inside and returned with the starters, much to Potter's and Draco's displease. The Hero was probably too polite to refuse and since they had already eaten for three days, it was practically impossible to get down the amount of food Mrs. Weasley was presenting them.

Draco looked around the table. These were people Draco had never talked to before, or people he used to call names. Since George was sitting next to Angelina, he assumed they were a couple. They were cute together, and when Draco looked closer, he noticed Johnson was pregnant.

"Hey, Potter," Draco said. Potter looked up from his smoked bacon, a questioning look on his face. He froze in his movement of cutting up the bacon, waiting for Draco to speak.

"Johnson is pregnant. Did you know that?"

"No. That's great. I'll congratulate them later." Potter looked around the table to see for himself that the woman was pregnant. Draco smiled at his lover, shaking his head. Potter then continued his efforts to try and empty his plate.

"Would you want a kid together?"

"A kid?" Potter seemed dumbfounded.

"Yes, Potter. A kid."

"I don't know. I never thought about having children."

"Would you want children with me?" Draco asked. Potter looked at him as if he'd just been asked to win another Wizarding War. "It's just a question," Draco added quietly. He didn't know why Potter's distant behavior affected him so quickly. To be honest he'd always wanted a kid. And he would love to raise one with the dark-haired man sitting in front of him.

"Well, I guess so," Potter eventually replied.

"I don't want kids now, I, ... I was just thinking out loud."

"No, no! I understand. I would... love to - er... have children with you," Potter stammered. He cut up the piece of melon on his plate, avoiding Draco's gaze.

"You're so shitty at this, Potter, you know that?"

"Look who's paid attention in class," Potter retorted. Draco just smiled, leaving his own starter for what it was. He'd had enough to eat today, and even though he didn't want to be rude to Mrs. Weasley, he couldn't get it down his throat. He'd make it disappear when no one was looking.

"Hi, Harry. Malfoy," George greeted. He'd probably seen hem watching.

"George! Congratulations on the baby. It's been too long since I last saw you."

"Thanks, Harry. It sure has. I guess we're all trampling, trying to get forward. It's good to see you. And you as well Malfoy. I never thought I'd see the two of you hooking up." Potter turned scarlet, and Draco just shrugged.

"How far is she already?" he asked. George's face lit up as Draco turned the subject back to the pregnancy again and counted on his fingers.

"I think about seven months and two weeks."

"Two weeks and three days, actually," Angelina Johnson added. She came up behind George and put an arm around him. Draco just observed them, happy love could still exist in a family that had lost so much.

"Hi Angelique." Harry got up to kiss the woman on the cheek, and Draco couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy go through his chest. Not that he needed to be jealous of her, since she was expecting from the Weasel. "It's so nice to see you. How are you doing? Does it kick yet?"

"Yes of course, it does." Draco closed his eyes in disbelief for a brief moment. How stupid was Potter? She was seven months pregnant. If it didn't kick now, it would _never _kick. "He's rather active, but I don't mind. I just love the pregnancy. I'll be sad to see him go at nine months. Not that I don't want to hold him, but it's just so great."

"Women," George muttered. Draco just listened, observing the green-eyed man as he watched Johnson's belly in awe.

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure." Potter carefully placed his hand on her belly, his eyes as big as saucers.

"So, it's going to be a boy?" Draco asked, rememering the woman referring to the belly as 'he'. He really wanted Potter to snap out of it and put his attention back on Draco, but the man just seemed captivated by the bump.

"Yes, it is. We're going to name him Fred Junior, in memory of his uncle Fred." Draco nodded, not sure what to reply to that. He could see the sadness appear in George's eyes, and wished he could excuse themselves. But Potter was still standing there like a moron.

"I read about your mother in the Daily Prophet. How is she doing?" George asked, while Potter and Angelique kept talking about the baby. Draco was pleasantly surprised George was actually asking about his personal life, and smiled in reply.

"She's doing great. My father's death is weighing on her, but apart from that she's happier than I've ever known her to be. We owe Potter."

"We all do. If it wasn't for him, we'd all be either dead or following the Darkest Wizard Of All Times." Draco looked at the Hero again, a fond smile crossing his face.

"I can see you really care about him, Malfoy. I appreciate that. Thank you for being there for him. He really needed someone like you." Draco looked up at George. He didn't know where that comment was coming from. How was he supposed to react to this?

"I love him," he replied softly.

"I can tell. Well, we should go back to our seats before mom starts serving desserts. You are already behind, so we'll leave you."

"It was nice talking to you, Weasley."

"Likewise, Malfoy." The Redhead left again, and Potter took his seat.

"I really would love a baby. We'll have to adopt one, won't we?" Draco felt the need to strangle the man.

"Of course. Except if you have a womb, maybe." Draco replied sarcastically. Potter could be such an idiot at times. Did he have no brains at all, or was he just too stupid to actually use them?

"Well, you never know with magic. Maybe you could take Polyjuice Potion during the pregnancy or something."

"You aren't fertile when using the potion. It's impossible to make or carry children," Draco explained. It took a while before the message sunk in.

"And if you take Polyjuice Potion of a pregnant woman. Does the baby die?"

"No, it doesn't, since you don't have a baby. You only copy the current state of the person you took the hair of. You'll have a pregnant belly, but it won't grow. If you take the potion again with new added hair, the minor changes of the body will be included again."

"I don't get it."

"If you take a Polyjuice Potion from, say a woman with dark long hair, and she cuts it and dies it to blonde straight after, your version of her hair will still be dark and long. It isn't until you make a new potion, with a new strand of hair that you'll have the blonde locks. The same counts for babies."

"Oh. That's - too bad."

"We could adopt," Draco suggested.

"Adopting sounds fine." Potter agreed, and both men fell silent. After they finished dessert - Draco had just made it all disappear - music started playing, and the table was put aside to make room for a dance floor. Potter and Draco just kept sitting in their chairs, enjoying a glass of red wine. Draco looked around the tent, realising that even though he wasn't part of this family, he had felt at home from the minute he'd arrived. He was a grown-up now, and was happy people forgave him for his immature behavior at Hogwarts. He was so caught up in his thoughts, that he hadn't seen Potter get up from his chair, holding out a hand to him.

"Wanna dance?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm pretty sure you can't dance Potter. Remember the Yule Ball? You were a disaster."

"I was young! I can do better than that now, come on. I love this song."

"Fine." Draco got up, covering the fact that he was flattered by Potter asking him to dance. Potter grabbed his hand, tugging him to a free spot on the dance floor. Draco turned to Potter, not really sure what to do at first. He then loosely wrapped his arms around the black-haired man's waist. It was a slow song. Potter raised his hands, placing them on either side of his neck. His hands were warm and felt nice against his skin.

"I had a nice time today, Draco." Potter's breath tingled against his ear as the man whispered the words.

"Me too. Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas." Potter laid down his head against Draco's shoulder while dancing. It felt as if Draco was alone with the Hero, as if no one else was on that dancefloor. The entire world disappeared, and all that was left was Harry Potter.

In the end, it had always been Harry Potter.

**To be continued...**


End file.
